


The Ties That Bind: Sheer Luck and the Sympathy of Others

by rekishi



Series: Young, Hot and Royal [5]
Category: Royalty RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Disapproving Parents, Inspired by Real Events, Kinky, Love Overcomes All, M/M, Politics, Romance, Scandal, Secret Relationship, Star-crossed, Weddings, Workaholic, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The path life would take had always seemed clear cut for Guillaume, Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg. Yet, after taking a gamble for once, he finds himself in different circumstances altogether, which might yet change the direction he was headed into. The realisation that handling matters alone is not an option leads to surprising alliances punctuated by muddy cemetery grounds and smothering cleavages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ties That Bind: Sheer Luck and the Sympathy of Others

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Twice in a Blue Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/135479) by [carmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta). 



> Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and does not claim to report actual events; events that have taken place were used because they fit the setting, others might have been omitted. Events that are yet to take place have been entirely thought up by the author, any corresponding happenings are entirely coincidental. The characters featured in this fictional work are real people and the author does not claim any kind of insight into their lives or characters, only the public personas displayed by these people were taken into account for this story and any conclusions the author has drawn from the public image are entirely part of the author's imagination. No harm, insult or vilification to the real person was intended with the work at hand.
> 
>  **This is fiction.**

As royal weddings went, the one the papers were currently speculating about was unprecedented, at the very least.

His Royal Highness Guillaume Jean Joseph Marie, Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg, Hereditary Prince of Nassau, Prince of Bourbon-Parma (even though the latter remained a controversial issue) put down the paper in exasperation.

He had been right.

Granted, he'd never had any doubts about being right regarding the existence of something-more-than-friendship between those two. There had suddenly been too many official visits in a too short time, and Guillaume had seen both William and Carl Philip on too many airports and too many planes (when they were scheduled to be elsewhere at the time, by royal calender) for there to be nothing going on. Not to mention their behaviour towards one another at the wedding of Prince Harry.

Really, it had been all too obvious if one knew what you had to look for; it was a miracle nobody had figured it out so far. Those two certainly would have gone and made fools of themselves at that wedding if Guillaume had not interfered.

Coming up with suitable topics for conversation had been the hardest part. After all, there was no talking to Carl Philip these days, the man simply refused to step within arm's reach of Guillaume. Maybe, he mused, that was understandable after his own rather clumsy attempts at getting close to the other man, way back when he had not been as certain about things. With William, on the other hand, he'd never had too many dealings before - except that one time a couple of months ago that had been most awkward, probably due to Carl Philip telling stories. So what did one talk to him about?

Polo, maybe, as Prince William seemed to spend a good amount of his free time on horseback, but Guillaume wasn't really interested in either cricket or golf. Horses were fine enough but the combination of all three didn't make a lot of sense to him. That was more up his brother Felix' alley.

What it came down to was that they did not have a lot in common. Certainly, both of them were to sit on a throne one day, but he had found out long ago that his future as Grand Duke of Luxembourg, and politics in a broader sense, made for lousy conversation. That left, more or less, their military background, if Guillaume wanted to avoid the more sensitive topics.

Sandhurst was a common denominator between them and both their countries were active in the ISAF effort; both of which didn't make for splendid entertainment but it was _something_ to talk about. Saying it worked would have been a euphemism, considering Carl Philip had done his best to drink himself into a stupor right across from Guillaume, while William had taken to nodding mechanically every so often. The new Princess Henry had taken pity on them all at some point and provided an excuse to get them all moving - into different directions.

Charming girl. She might have slightly scandalised Europe by showing up in Harry's life, but that would be nothing more than an anecdote a couple of months down the road. All it would take was her belly rounding some more. Guillaume had to smile; she reminded him a lot of Tessy in those first few months. Nervous, a little scared but ultimately determined to make it work and to survive with her sanity intact. After talking to Alexandra, Princess Henry, Duchess of Sussex, not to be confused with his own sister, he was convinced she would grow well into her role.

As an additional benefit, preventing the future King of England and his lover from publicly embarrassing themselves had kept Guillaume mostly out of Andrea Casiraghi's path.

There was something about the Grimaldi heir that made Guillaume want to keep his distance and widen that distance as much as possible. Considering their positions as heirs and the fact that they were being thrown together every so often the last few years, this hadn't been so easy. He could not put his finger on the reason, but the man made his hackles rise and he had long ago made provisions for Andrea not to try to become too friendly, as Guillaume wasn't comfortable having his personal boundaries violated like that and on the whim of Andrea Casiraghi, of all people. Maybe it was the easygoing way the man handled his life and his position, how he seemed to be overly nice to everyone - male or female. No matter if he was in a relationship himself at the time or not.

So Guillaume was happy to leave Andrea to other young royals, like Theodora of Greece and Denmark, at Harry's wedding. Although he had his doubts Andrea was naive enough to get mixed up with the royal house of Greece in general and Theodora in particular. Not that he didn't like the Greeks, they were nice and polite enough, but there simply was too much baggage. And for all that Guillaume knew about Andrea, he liked to keep his life as light as possible. As for Theodora... She had called him out of the blue several weeks after the wedding, a time during which William and Carl Philip had mysteriously gone radio silent simultaneously, and invited him for lunch. His impression that she was nice enough but would have someone like Andrea Casiraghi for breakfast and not even notice had only been confirmed.

The old descriptions of valkyries sprang to mind whenever he saw her.

His thoughts circled back to William and Carl Philip when he took up the paper again and decidedly chose page two to start. At least now the gutter press headline notices about Orlando Bloom being spotted buying lube in various British cities would stop. The one positive aspect, he mused, was that now he didn't have to go and shock everyone in Europe himself with the fact that yes, royalty being gay was indeed an option.

As if on cue, he heard steps padding on the wooden floor and when he lowered the paper again, Amedeo - Prince of Belgium, Archduke of Austria-Este - was standing in the door to his study. "Can't you have breakfast in the kitchen like a normal person?" He was still looking sleep-dishevelled and running a hand through his hair didn't make it any better. Not that Guillaume minded to have his lover standing there bare chested and blinking into the morning light.

"Normal people don't get to play regent for their father the Grand Duke all by their lonesome at the family seat," he replied and folded up the paper so the headline about the two idiots was up front. "William and Carl Philip, front page of every newspaper worldwide. And I'm not talking yellow press here."

Amedeo stepped further into the room and came around to stand next to his chair; Guillaume made room and Amedeo leaned back against the desk, taking the paper and studying the manip of the two foreign princes holding polar bear cubs. "You think that was a smart move?"

"No." He frowned. "But they didn't have much of a choice. I don't know how long this has been going on, but you've seen them at the wedding. If everyone hadn't still been so scandalised about Harry getting that poor girl pregnant..."

Amedeo looked up from skimming the article with an amused smile. "You don't know for certain that he knocked her up."

"Oh please, Amedeo. Two plus two is _not_ five."

His lover laughed and leaned forward, braced one hand against the arm rest of his office chair and kissed him. "No, love, it's four. And I agree that it's the likely scenario, but until Buckingham Palace puts out the notice, we don't know for certain. Just because the Grand Ducal Palace announced Tessy's pregnancy early on doesn't mean this will be entirely true for the Brits." He pushed away from the desk and made to leave the room. "Now, do you care to keep me company while I have some breakfast in a proper way? I'll even let you fiddle with your phone and grumble over your schedule."

Guillaume smiled while shaking his head and snatched up the offending gadget, but left his cigarettes in the bottom drawer of his desk. His lover hated the taste. Before following he threw one last look at the discarded paper. There was only praying that those two would come out on top. Maybe, if and when he and Amedeo went public, there was some civil conversation to be had about dealing with the fall-out.

Those were considerations for another day, though.

~*~

"Don't tell me you're cancelling on me again," Amedeo said right after picking up the phone, not even giving him a chance for a greeting.

Guillaume knew the less-than-subtle accusation was at least semi-justified as he'd had to cancel two consecutive trips to New York City already because his schedule had suddenly changed. This time, however, he was determined to see it through. "Not so far, I'll be arriving an hour later and on a flight from Madrid though. A trade board appointment came up and I'll attend that before flying out."

"You better get here this time, or I'll really be angry. It'll be much easier to be undisturbed here," Amedeo grumbled and Guillaume had to concede the point; in a city where no one knew them for who and what they were, being together would present less of a problem.

"I will," Guillaume promised. "Take care until then."

"You too," Amedeo replied and rang off, not after admonishing him to 'leave the fags at home'. Only Amedeo could make a joke of that.

Guillaume wouldn't have made it home to Colmar at a reasonable time that evening if he hadn't promised his parents and Sébastien to have dinner with them. After all, who would be a role model to his youngest brother if not Guillaume himself? On the other hand, it was the perfect opportunity to inform them of his plans. "I won't be around this weekend. Amedeo has invited me to spend a few days at his place a little while ago already and I thought I'd take him up on the offer."

He'd aimed for casual but somehow must have missed the sentiment as three pairs of eyes were staring at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Sébastien mumbled into his food but was obviously trying his hardest to keep his face straight.

"It's just," their mother tried to explain with a shrug, "it's so seldom you take a few days' rest, hearing you announce it just like that is somewhat curious, dear."

His father just nodded. "Do remember to thank your cousin, though."

Sighing inwardly, Guillaume thought that was exactly the fact he didn't want to be reminded of too often. "I'm not five years old anymore, Paps."

"And tell Amedeo he's welcome to do that more often. Getting away once in a while is important and New York is a wonderful city to go out and see new things," María Teresa added with a smile.

He just shrugged. "He did say I could come any time, so maybe I'll do that." A consideration thus pronounced would help not making anyone wonder if he took trips to visit Amedeo more often.

"Wonderful," she said with a smile and re-filled her water glass. "Maybe you can invite Amedeo back here at some point. I know it's not far from home for him, but I'm sure he'd appreciate not to be under such tight supervision all the time when he's in Europe. And it would give you a bit of rest without the jet-lag."

"Mama... I'm sure Amedeo can handle his own affairs." No use telling them how often Amedeo had been there in the last few months already, or he himself in Brussels.

She nodded. "I'm sure he can, Guillaume, but it doesn't hurt to look out for one another."

It was easier to agree with his parents than discuss this any further, so he just nodded. "Yes, Mama."

That Friday at noon, he managed to make his flight to New York, if barely. The meeting had dragged on longer than he had anticipated and it was literally the last call for his flight before they closed the gates. Amedeo would probably have ripped his head off if he'd missed this one. Of course, that was one of the reasons why Guillaume didn't like coming in at the last possible minute, but sometimes it was just inevitable.

At least he had made it and was now settled down in business class, futilely trying to catch some sleep. He knew it was a doomed effort but every time he had a long distance flight, he tried for at least an hour, until giving up and getting a book out of his carry-on. As he had decided, a long time ago, to only work on flights if he absolutely had to - because no matter if he wore contacts or glasses his eyes started to burn after a while - at least this way he managed to read quite a few books each year.

He settled back into his seat, closed his eyes and tried to think of Amedeo and the fact that they would be together in mere hours, not days.

~*~

It was easy for nobody to find someone with whom one could be in a serious relationship. Being Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg didn't make that little matter any easier, considering the makings a potential partner needed to have: of noble birth, considerably scandal free, willing to live a life in public, able to cope with the demands of being married to a future head of state... And those were just the general hallmarks, there was plenty more in the fine print.

As far as most of those major points were concerned, Guillaume mused as he looked around business class for something to occupy himself with during the last half hour of the flight, Amedeo probably was every parent-in-law's dream. He even was an Imperial and Royal Highness, theoretically far outclassing a (Hereditary) Grand Duke. The only true drawbacks probably were that Amedeo was a man and Guillaume's second cousin. Well, maybe the second cousin part wasn't so bad as there would be no genetically endangered offspring. That there _would_ be no children was a whole different problem.

The seatbelt sign came on and he looked down on the city where his lover was currently living and working. A long distance relationship was probably easier to handle, even - or perhaps especially - one as relatively new as theirs, when you'd known each other practically all your life. However, it wasn't an arrangement Guillaume was willing to keep up forever, as they could only meet every couple of weeks, and that just wasn't enough.

It was only when he saw Amedeo smiling, waiting to pick him up, when he once more decided that the wait was well worth it every time. Especially as it made kissing in public absolutely acceptable behaviour, something that would be impossible back home.

"Now, if you aren't enthusiastic," Amedeo chuckled and bent down for one last kiss. "How was the flight?"

"Boring, I need another book for the way home. Do we have plans for the evening?"

Amedeo laughed. "Aren't you jet lagged?"

Throwing him a look, Guillaume just shrugged. "We have three days, I don't have time to be jet lagged."

"Two, actually," his lover sighed. "Unless you fancy lunch with my mother?"

He blinked. Astrid would first castrate and then dismember him limb by limb for what Guillaume was doing to her son, before setting him up for crucifixion for turning her precious Amedeo gay in the first place. "Pass."

"Thought so. You are aware that we can't keep this secret forever, aren't you?" By now they were sitting in a cab, their fingers entwined. Guillaume had leaned his head back but now turned it and opened one eye to look at his lover. "You're over 30, there's certain expectations you have to fulfil," he added reasonably.

"I have a regular lunch date with Theodora, everyone thinks I've taken up with her at Harry's wedding," Guillaume stated with conviction and felt Amedeo squeeze his hand. "Well, maybe my parents don't."

"They didn't believe it when you started seeing Pia. You did know that, right?" Amedeo answered and Guillaume sighed in resignation. No, he hadn't quite known, but he'd had an inkling there. Not just because he had used the freedom offered to him.

"Pia was different," he grumbled. Slightly. Theodora and he benefited from their arrangement by not only having their relatives off their backs, but also by actually having become friends, while Pia...had made her career out of the publicity and he had shown that yes, he could have a girlfriend. If he wanted to. The fact that he didn't want to was a different matter entirely.

Amedeo sighed but was smart enough not to comment further on that.

Amedeo's bed was made for sleeping as much as for sex. It was king size and outfitted with sturdy bed posts that they had tested already, much to the dismay of the downstairs neighbour (a tiny old lady who at first had threatened them with the police and then pinched their cheeks when they went to apologise and offered them cookies, because they were such nice young men). Guillaume loved waking up in it; knowing he didn't need to leave it if he didn't want to, knowing he didn't have to act as heir to the throne of Luxembourg in this flat and that he wasn't alone.

It was nice they could go back to bed after a stroll to pick up dinner. It was even better that Amedeo always stocked up on condoms and lube if he knew his lover was coming, and no one had reason to comment on it.

What was between them was more than just the familiarity of many years of friendship; it was love, not just the physical aspect of sex, even if Guillaume felt it strongest when he was moving in Amedeo, their gazes locked.

"I saw Monaco's Princely Couple when I had coffee before I went to pick you up," Amedeo remarked when they were lying together, his hand sifting through Guillaume's hair in a reassuring manner. "They had a younger couple with them. I didn't see them too well, but if I had to guess I'd say it was Andrea and his girlfriend."

"Probably," Guillaume murmured sleepily. He was too tired and had crossed too many time zones to be concerned about Andrea Casiraghi possibly being in the same city as him, especially if that city had almost ten million inhabitants, not counting tourists. "I don't really care as long as you didn't tell them we were coming for dinner."

He could hear in Amedeo's voice that he was frowning. "What's your problem with Albert?"

"I have none. I'm just not on speaking terms with Caroline's children. Well, I don't know Charlotte and Pierre too well, to be honest." He shrugged. Pierre from watching football. Charlotte from being cordial. "But Andrea and I don't mesh well on functions."

"Who _are_ you on speaking terms with?" It sounded a little annoyed. "Besides your siblings and Theodora that is. Carl Philip, William-"

"I am _not_ not on speaking terms with William." He looked up and into the other man's eyes. "And I think you're forgetting yourself on that first list."

"I'm also discounting my siblings, Mette-Marit, Willem-Alexander and a whole bunch of other people. It's the sentiment that counts." Amedeo's green eyes had turned hard and stormy. "Does William know he's talking to you?"

Guillaume blinked. "Well, I assume so."

Amedeo pushed him slightly away and got up; Guillaume noticed with absent amusement that most Americans would probably have gone fishing for their shorts before stalking up and down naked in front of their very large floor-to-ceiling windows. "Maybe you should make sure of that at some point. You know, much as I don't actually care for this whole being royal and all, it might be convenient to have a little support from others, should we need it. Preferably people who have been faced with similar situations. And I can guarantee you we'll need it, when we..."

Eyes narrowed, Guillaume regarded his lover closer when he trailed off that last sentence. "How much thought have you given to this?"

"Enough to be _sure_ , Guillaume." Amedeo exhaled in exasperation as he stood, stark naked, back-lit by light the dusk coming through the windows. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

Guillaume, Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg, quickly scrambled off the bed and pulled his lover down to him, effectively shutting him up. When they came up for air again, Amedeo was grinning. "I take that as a yes?"

"If you can somehow break it to your mother without giving her a heart attack. And keep her from taking scissors to my _parts_ ," Guillaume conceded and was amazed how easy proposals were without actually saying the words or the whole going down on one knee crap.

Amedeo rolled his eyes. "Forget my mother. Your father has to give his approval. And possibly make some serious changes about the house law. I wouldn't know." They kissed again. "But I'm holding on to you."

~*~

"How is it I always get you as my dinner date?" Guillaume wondered as the Crown Princess of Norway linked her arm with his and they started to make their way towards the formal reception dinner for this state's visit.

"Do you mind?" Mette-Marit asked with a certain amount of amusement. "After all, my husband is duty-bound elsewhere and you have to heroically step in so I will have an arm to hang on to."

The look he shot up at her should have told her exactly what he thought of the idea of her, of all people, needing _his_ arm to hang on to. For all intends and purposes, Crown Prince Haakon would cheerfully tear him apart limb by limb if Guillaume so much as glanced at her with anything but appropriate intentions. "I don't mind. It's just peculiar that I always get to escort such a formidable woman like you."

"Flatterer," she grinned. "Then again, the alternative would be Märtha, and unless you have a vested interest in angels, you're stuck with me."

"I can live with that, I suppose," he answered belatedly, as they had interrupted their conversation to be seated and take care of the preliminaries. They kept up the usual small talk during dinner, nothing truly personal, nothing too in-depth, no topics that might upset anyone. This woman had grown well into her role as princess, Guillaume thought, certainly one of the positive examples of an unconventional marriage turning out favourably. He just hoped that once Amedeo and he were at that point, things would turn out well for them as well.

Mette-Marit startled him from his little reverie with the verbal equivalent of a bucket full of cold water. "Say, did you manage to visit your cousin by now?"

"Which cousin?"

"The one in New York. You mentioned it at Victoria's wedding. You get quite talkative after four glasses of wine on an empty stomach, did you know that?" She was smiling slightly, not in the least malevolent or gloating, so Guillaume just had to hope he'd not said anything to give away his...growing affections towards Amedeo. There had been nothing but friendship between them at the time, and he would have never would have dared to hope it could one day be what they now were for one another.

He had to take a sip of his wine, to stall as much as to wet his suddenly dry mouth. "Do I?" he finally asked.

"Don't worry, you were perfectly polite. You did say, however, your workload didn't allow you to go and see your cousin as often as you'd like to since he's been living in New York," she explained and Guillaume breathed an inward sigh of relief. His workload was no secret, his official schedule was a matter of public knowledge, after all.

"We've met several times since then. Thank you for the concern, though." He smiled reassuringly at her, hoping to end the subject with that but she frowned slightly, only perceptible for him as he was sitting next to her.

"You've managed to reduce your workload, then? Good for you." Him blinking at her for the sudden non-sequitur seemed to clue her in. "You haven't, have you?"

"Why would I?" Why kept people hinting he was working too much? Being heir apparent to any throne went hand in hand with certain expectations his people had of him and hard work was first and foremost of them. Not only Amedeo, and occasionally his mother, but now also foreign royalty remarked on that; he would have expected that a crown princess, even if she was one by marriage only, would agree with such a sentiment.

Sighing, she reached out beneath the table and patted the crook of his arm. Looking him in the eye she said, "Guillaume, I probably know more about what it means to be married to a future monarch than anyone else in my position." And she was probably right about that too, it was an open secret that Haakon had been regent in everything but name for several years already, as King Harald V's health had been on the wane. "But even my husband keeps a lighter schedule than you apparently do."

"The two of you have children at home," he responded absently. "I'm doing what is expected of me."

"No one is expecting of you to work every waking hour of the day," she insisted.

Guillaume shook his head, smiled as reassuringly as he was capable of once more. "I'm not. I'm having dinner with you now, don't I?"

Staring at him, she said in carefully controlled exasperation, "Which is work-related, too. Do I need to call your cousin and stage an intervention?"

The thought of Princess Mette-Marit calling Amedeo on behalf of getting Guillaume to work less was more scary than he cared to admit, especially as Amedeo had almost thrown a stack of his papers he had brought to New York out of the window once already. But his breeding forbade him to show fear in front of someone who might interpret it as weakness. "I don't believe that will be necessary. I'm doing fine."

Staring at him for a few long heartbeats, she finally shook her head and took her hand away from his arm. "I still don't think this is good for you, but we'll leave it for now. I do reserve the right to go about that intervention, though. You're far too well trained already for us to lose you to burn-out."

Somehow, Guillaume didn't think she was referring to his capabilities as Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg but rather the subset of his manners where deference to any female was concerned.

~*~

It was a wet and cool September day, the kind one tended to associate with the British isles, and he found it only too apt that he should find himself exactly there this day. Guillaume threw a look towards the heavens and hoped the dark and roiling clouds wouldn't break while he was getting this over with. He hated cemeteries. He also was desperate for a smoke, as always when he was nervous, but this was neither the time, nor the place.

William's security guard had noticed him already but let him pass unheeded, probably recognising him as who he was. He had to leave it to Scotland Yard, they did brief their people well. Guillaume came to stand a little behind and to the side of the man he was seeking to talk with, to not scare him by suddenly appearing. He could only imagine how he would react, were he in his position.

"Erin," he read out loud the name on the headstone. "No last name?"

It was with a certain amount of alarm that William turned around, a frown appearing on his face when he recognised who had joined him. "Guillaume." His tone was neutral, but it didn't seem like he was happy with this visitation.

Guillaume smiled tightly but let his expression falter quickly and gave a single nod instead, as much in greeting as in acknowledgement. "Hello, William." This was probably not going to be easy. Or comfortable, considering the boggy ground they were standing on.

There was a moment during which the other man seemed to take his measure, then turned around once more to look down at the headstone. Several tense minutes passed and Guillaume started to feel like the intruder he probably was. He could always have chosen a different moment, he didn't need to do this today, but he was here now and it was done. Both of them would have to see this through.

He didn't want to be there. Guillaume could imagine a places he'd rather be, and he had reshuffled the whole week's schedule to be here, but Amedeo had been persistent in his nagging and he just didn't want to hear it any more. So he was here now, practically stalking the future Prince of Wales. Marvellous.

Eventually, William sighed audibly and faced him once more. "Interesting environment to chose for a social call," he said somewhat sarcastically. "How did you know I'd come here?"

Guillaume figured he probably deserved the tone so he just hunched his shoulders some more in a shrug. "There are always ways and means around the official schedule. It was a guarantee for catching you alone."

A frown spread over William's face once more before he walked up to where Guillaume was still standing and then past him. Automatically, he fell into step and they spent several moments walking past graves in silence; it didn't look like William wanted to get rid of Guillaume and they were making their way further into the cemetery, rather than to its fringes. "If I was only half as irrational about you as Carl, I would say you have ulterior motives."

Of course. In a cemetery. Guillaume refrained from making that comment, barely, and said instead, "Carl Philip probably has every reason to be wary of me." He saw William's mouth lift in a half-smile of amused acknowledgement. It had been almost a decade and Guillaume started to wonder wonder if he ever was to be forgiven for his ill-advised attempt at an opportunity.

They fell silent again until William stopped and looked off into the distance where the clouds had parted a little and it was slightly lighter than where they were standing. Maybe there would be no rain, after all. "She saved my sanity." He looked over. "When my mother died. I didn't know Erin very well at that time... or maybe that's put wrong. We were starting to get to know one another _quite_ well. When... it happened and Gran shut us away from the world, she bullied her way through, don't ask me how. Maybe her previous access to me helped. But she had spine. She might be the only person, outside of family, who dared talk back to gran and walked away with both of their prides intact. I never asked how she did it, it was quite remarkable, though."

"Saved your sanity. Is that the explanation for your brother?"

William turned a genuinely amused smile his way. "My brother was saved by his youth. Everything that followed... Well, you know your own brothers."

"I do," Guillaume sighed. "And?" He looked around. They were still standing in a cemetery and they still weren't any closer to...anything, really. Instead he was listening to a story he had no business - or desire - knowing.

But the other man just shrugged. "I was 15. She was 18; she cared about me at first because I suppose I was...someone unexpected and then because I had suffered a loss. A year later she went to Spain to study and we lost contact, you know how it goes." Another look into the distance. "She didn't know she had congenital cardiac hypertrophy and a heart attack killed her at 22. There was no family left to bury her, I knew that. When I learned, accidentally, what had happened I fought rather badly with my father, but eventually I paid for the funeral. Anonymously."

"Your point?" Guillaume was honestly wondering why he was being told such... intimate details. And intimate they were, because he would rather not imagine what had come to pass between William and this now dead young woman.

"It was you who sought me out here, Guillaume. I'm not sure I have one. Do you?" A pair of blue eyes met his and he could clearly read, _why bother at all?_

He looked around himself a little nervous, knowing it was now biting him in the arse that he hadn't prepared a wording of some kind. But then, how could he have known how this would turn out between them? "Do you have a wedding date already?"

William looked mildly surprised at first but lifted one corner of his mouth. "Not finalised. Why, do you?" Startled, Guillaume couldn't help but gape a little. But William just gave his shoulder a friendly pat and smiled his encouragement. "Call it an educated guess."

"Can we-"

"No worries, I won't tell anyone. Not even Carl, it's not like he'd know what to do about it anyway. But don't expect a wedding invitation from us, despite this. These matters are... complicated." He shrugged, but didn't seem overly concerned. The weddings of heirs to thrones were a matter among heirs, normally - and William was not yet the direct heir either - but Guillaume's parents would probably value the occasion.

"Carl Philip _really_ can't stand the sight of me, can he?" Guillaume really was not going to live that little transgression down, it seemed.

William shrugged again. "All things considered, he's more scared of _Crown Princess Mary_ of Denmark than you, but we can't not invite _her_. With you it's conditioning, I suppose. He'll calm down once he knows you don't present a danger to him anymore, directly or indirectly." That last was definitely a jibe towards what had happened at Harry's wedding but Guillaume refrained from pointing out that they would have outed themselves prematurely on the broadest stage imaginable and just swallowed the comment. "And now tell me why you're really here."

He looked the man straight in the eye and paraphrased what Amedeo had said several months before. "I may find myself in need of assistance from my own peer group. Soon."

"Fancy way of asking for help." William sighed and slowly started walking again to where their cars waited. "We'll give you what support we can. I guess I can speak for Carl as well there. Does your family know?"

"My parents have one son in a morganatic marriage already, I'm not sure what they'll think about me taking up with-," he broke off, putting a name out there now would only lead to problems. "You know. It complicates matters."

The other man made sound that indicated agreement. "Well, you have two more brothers who can take care of succession. Have your father call my grandmother. Or me, as that probably carries less," he exhaled, "official implications. I have an appointment to keep in half an hour. Good luck, Guillaume."

He watched him take a few steps away from him before calling after the man. "William."

"Yes?"

"About Erin-" There was nothing he could truly say. It wasn't his life, his history, or in any way connected to himself. What could he say? Do?

But William just smiled. "Everything I told you today is the truth. Consider this a quid pro quo between us. And just between us."

Guillaume shook his head as he watched the other man walk away towards his armoured car, while the first drops of rain started to patter down, after all. Maybe there truly wasn't a relationship without secrets; maybe everyone always kept a little part of themselves private. Sharing your life with someone was, after all, different from living the same identity. That was something he was slowly coming to understand, as stakes started to rise.

~*~

"The internet is saying you got poor Madeleine pregnant," Amedeo said when Guillaume picked up the phone; he sounded like he was trying to suppress a laugh quite desperately. "First William and Victoria, now you and Madeleine; what _is_ it with you randy heir apparents?"

Guillaume closed his eyes in resignation and shook his head before he remembered Amedeo couldn't see him. "We're stuck in Stockholm," he explained. He had accompanied his parents on a state visit to Sweden in preparation for a meeting with the resident trade delegation, when another of those damnable Icelandic volcanoes had acted up. Right now everyone was only counting on a two day delay for flights, but if this went on any longer they would have to book train passage or explore other options. His schedule didn't take well to delays.

"That doesn't explain the photos of you carrying her purse." The smirk in Amedeo's voice was hard to ignore and Guillaume threw a quick glance at the princess in question, who was playing chess with his father. Henri was clearly letting her win but this was more a matter of entertainment than anything else.

He grumbled under his breath and left the room, not to disturb anyone or be overheard. "When it turned out we'd be stuck here, King Carl Gustaf invited us to stay at Drottningholm. Madeleine was here when we arrived and they more or less immediately left us to our own devices. Madeleine is babysitting us, I think."

"How did that turn out?" Amedeo asked sympathetically as Guillaume arrived at the guest room that had been assigned to him and sat down on the sofa.

"She was shocked when she found out I had brought a suit, my uniform and nothing else," he sighed. "And decided to take me shopping. Imagine your sisters in New York." Probably an apt comparison. Madeleine had been overly excited to have him accompany her. "What are women putting in their purses, bricks?"

His lover laughed warmly. "Made you carry it, did she?"

"She's pregnant, Amedeo, I could hardly let her do it herself," he murmured in exasperation. That's what you did when in polite company, and a Swedish princess most certainly counted as just that.

Amedeo hummed. "A true gentleman. What did you buy?"

"Maternity wear."

"Not for yourself, surely?"

"Might as well have been, looking as I was carrying the bags to the car. Do you know how hard it is to dissuade women when they have decided on something?"

"That's why I'm with you, my love, instead of some random woman," Amedeo answered sweetly.

"Charming," Guillaume grumbled sarcastically.

"So what did you buy?"

" _She_ made me buy a whole stack of jeans, saying her brother even did a good part of public appearances in them, although I can hardly believe that. Even Carl Philip can't be that informal. Whatever am I supposed to do with them once I'm back home?" He had no use for them, he never really had opportunity to wear them. He owned a pair or two, of course, but his daily working clothes were suits and uniforms, there simply was not enough opportunity to be casual.

Amedeo was quiet for a long moment and Guillaume already wondered if the signal had been lost (which would be just his luck, signal interference by ash cloud), when he finally said, "Revolutionary idea: bring them with you next time you come here. You could leave them and wouldn't have to bring so many clothes with you when you're visiting. Plus, I wouldn't always feel underdressed when we go out in the afternoons."

He considered that thought, absently toying with a lighter he had found in his pocket. The Swedish royals abhorred smoking, it must have still been in there from his last exhibition opening. It was no bother at all to carry a few changes of clothes with him back and forth when he was visiting his lover; after all, Guillaume had plenty of practise packing. But maybe it would be good to have more than a toothbrush and some underwear at Amedeo's; it would lift their relationship to a more settled level. As things stood now, they were always in transit from one place to the next, and while that wouldn't change, having clothes there at all times would anchor him a little more in Amedeo's life.

"I guess I could do that," Guillaume conceded and wondered how public opinion held jeans in combination with dress shirts. Maybe he should ask Madeleine, she seemed like one of those women who just assimilated knowledge like that by osmosis.

"You'll get some space for them in my closet," Amedeo promised. "So how did they deal with it?"

Guillaume was momentarily confused. "What?"

"The Swedish court. Madeleine, for that matter. How did they take the headlines?"

"Oh." Right, they had been talking about that. "She laughed it off. The PR team seemed a little annoyed, if the press release is any indication. What are you up to?"

"Work," Amedeo sighed. "This new project they assigned me is extremely interesting, but I need to get some reading done and don't expect to surface from beneath my stacks of paper for a couple of days. I just wanted to hear your voice, talk to you a bit... I should go though. I love you. Take care of yourself."

"Yes," Guillaume answered before they ended the call, "you, too."

There was a knock at the open door and when he looked up, Princess Madeleine hovered in the entrance, a speculating expression on her face that made Guillaume wonder how much she'd heard. "Your girlfriend?"

Heaving an internal sigh of relief, he summoned a smile and shook his head. "Not in this life."

Tilting her head, Princess Madeleine Bernadotte of Sweden grinned and Guillaume wondered if maybe he should seek shelter. "You're an even worse liar than Carl. And Carl is a horrible liar. But I'll let you keep your little secret until I grow bored. If you care for some company again, there'll be coffee in a little bit."

"Sure." The Swedes were strange, with their coffee-as-social-institution habit. But when in Rome...

She nodded and turned around to leave him alone again, but at the last second she looked over her shoulder. "Whoever it is, you should keep her. You looked happy."

Somewhat surprised he blinked at her, but the youngest of the Bernadotte siblings was gone already. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pushed off the sofa and followed Madeleine back to where their parents were probably already waiting for them. As much as he appreciated Swedish hospitality, he was sure he should get out of the country as quick as possible and not just because he had duties awaiting him. Amedeo was expecting him in ten days in New York and each day they got delayed here in the north was a potential cut to his time with his lover. Madeleine wasn't stupid and with her brother having taken up with William, she was sure to pay more attention to these possibilities now. And they couldn't risk to be found out. Not yet, at least.

It was easier when he tried not to think of the implications of all this and occupied himself wondering how Carl Philip might have done at the race that had kept him away from this state visit. When he'd asked Madeleine how he and William would get back to England with the planes grounded, she had only said her brother was already gloating over the fact that he got to use German autobahns again. Peculiar indeed, this Anglo-Swedish connection which had developed over the last couple of years.

~*~

The new year was clearly not on their side, and Guillaume was heavily tempted to blame that black cat that kept crossing his way since right after New Year's.

He had managed to spend the turn of the year at Amedeo's in New York; his siblings had made plans away from home and his parents had decided they didn't want him underfoot for those days either and told him to find a holiday location. It suited him, since Amedeo had projects to finish up before the new year began and wouldn't make it home, but had invited him nevertheless so they did have a few pleasant enough days.

After Guillaume had come back home the incidences with the cat had started and after that there had been way too few opportunities to meet up.

At first it had been the party in honour of Mathilde's 40th birthday, which they both had attended, but there had been no opportunity for them to sneak away and spend some quality time with each other. In February, they had only managed one day and night during a hurried stopover that neither of them had been quite satisfied with.

Then there was the fact that work would soon relocate Amedeo to New Zealand for three months, and Guillaume had his doubts that they would possibly manage even a single meeting during that time.

And if that outlook weren't glum enough already, now he had to cancel on his lover once more.

With a heavy heart, he waited for Amedeo to pick up on the other end of the line. "Hey, love, hold on a moment." Paper rustling could be heard in the background; Amedeo had to be in the office, Guillaume realised and hoped he hadn't brought his lover into trouble. "Okay, shoot."

Guillaume sighed. "I have to cancel for the weekend. Paps is sending me off for one of his appointments that he can't make, something urgent came up."

The only thing to be heard for a long moment was silence until Amedeo spoke up again, sounding only slightly disappointed. His lover knew things weren't always clear cut for an heir apparent and these things happened. Tough luck and part of the risk when you were in a long distance relationship. "I understand. Is there any way we can reschedule?"

They tried to have at least a semblance of a schedule to figure out when there was a good time to meet up, but sometimes it just wasn't meant to be. "Weren't you free next weekend?" Guillaume rubbed his eyes and stared outside into the dark, wishing Amedeo was there. What luxury, to just have to reach out and have your beloved close to you. These were the times when he envied William and Carl Philip their outed status.

"Sorry," his lover's voice sounded truly regretful now, "Joachim announced he needs to crash on my couch, so that's out. The weekend after?"

It quickly turned out there was nothing to be done until the next month when Amedeo would be in Brussels for a few days, and Guillaume just loathed the distance between them in that moment, more than he normally did already. "You know, I'd give a lot if we weren't forced to have a relationship in increments of two or three days at a time."

"You and me both, but what can we do?" Amedeo sighed and continued before Guillaume could even start to speak, "No, don't answer that. We'll get there. Can I do anything to brighten up your day?"

Guillaume laughed. "You're doing plenty by neglecting your work for me. But I'll let you get back to it, though. Take care."

"You too. Love you."

The line clicked off and Guillaume sighed. That might have been the most pointless call they'd ever had during their relationship, yet despite the cancellation, just hearing Amedeo's voice had been good. He wondered at which point he'd become quite this besotted but found that truly, he didn't care too much.

It was several weeks later when Guillaume was reminded of how much he liked Amedeo's bed. But he liked it a lot more with his lover in it.

He blinked into the morning light and sat up to look around. No Amedeo, but there was the faint smell of coffee wafting through the apartment. He collected his shorts from the floor and made his way to the bathroom before starting his search for his lover and caffeine. The two made for a heady combination in his mind, which was only amplified by the fact that he felt slightly hung over. Being jet lagged for almost four consecutive days was simply annoying.

Finding Amedeo in the kitchen, barefoot and dressed in jeans and a loose black t-shirt, bent over a basket of rolls from the little bakery down the block, he stopped to drink in the sight for a second before making himself known. "Why is it that I had to wake up alone?"

Amedeo turned around with a bright smile and took a few quick steps towards him. "You were sleeping like a log," he answered and bent down for a good morning kiss. Guillaume wound his arms around his neck and kept him there for a time, deepening the kiss, inhaling his lover's scent. When they came up again, Amedeo hummed contentedly, holding him close with one arm around Guillaume's waist. "I bought us rolls."

"I saw." With that, Guillaume pressed one last kiss to his lips and went past him. "And you made coffee and if I hadn't loved you before, I would do so now."

Amedeo came after him and stepped up to the counter again, not before ghosting one hand over Guillaume's arse. "Still jet lagged?"

He made a sound that he hoped conveyed confirmation as well as his displeasure with the situation. Amedeo had known him long enough to be fully aware caffeine would do the trick of waking him up and put a mug in front of him the next moment. "We need to work on your sleeping habit on planes. Get earplugs or something."

"Tried that, doesn't work," he grumbled and took his first sip of the scalding liquid. At least his lover knew how to brew proper coffee, strong enough to have a spoon stand up straight in it. "Do we have plans for the weekend?"

"Well," Amedeo sat down across from him and started to butter a croissant, "although I'm almost sure you get enough of that back home, I thought we'd go out to see an exhibit or something, for a change."

Guillaume looked up and studied him. "You make it sound as if we're a pair of sex-obsessed fiends who don't get out of bed anymore."

Smiling, Amedeo let his bare foot travel up and down Guillaume's calf, making wordless suggestions that had nothing to do with going out to see the sights. "It's not that far off, we have been spending more time in bed than outside of it, the last few times you were here."

Not that that had been quite often enough, but Guillaume knew what Amedeo meant. Not that sex between them ever got dull, but there were more things to a relationship than that. The problem was, and they were circling back to the same issues over and over again, that they had to choose between physical intimacy and everything else that made a relationship during the too few, too far apart, too short meetings they could manage. They had discussed this to death more than once and it still wasn't helping them any.

He sighed. "No art exhibitions. I had three of those in the last two months."

"There's a group doing improvisation theatre, the audience can leave prompts at the ticket booth and they draw several from a hat every 15 minutes or so. Sound good?" Amedeo dropped a roll on his plate, a silent but insistent order that he eat, something else Guillaume tended to neglect when jet lagged.

"Perfect," he said and grinned at Amedeo. There was something to be said about being able to walk the streets like a normal person without being recognised (by too many) and just do silly and spontaneous things occasionally.

~*~

Guillaume wasn't sure exactly how he'd ended up behind the wheel of the armoured limousine. Early, very early, that morning there had been a last minute schedule change that saw him going alone to Brussels instead of with his father to attend a meeting, Félix - who was actually only visiting but had been conscripted for the day - had gone off to take the appointment in Liège that had come up while Henri had gone to Bètebuerg to take care of matters there. Between the mix-up and the last-minute arrangements, there had not been enough personnel and Guillaume had volunteered to drive himself. It would give him more independence for the day and he didn't have to rely on anyone sticking around while he was in meetings.

During lunch, he noticed that Félix had left a message on his voice mail requesting to be picked up in Liège whenever Guillaume was done, as the festivities he was working there together with Princess Astrid and Princess Madeleine of Sweden, of all people, dragged on. He'd tried to reach his brother during a cigarette break, but with no luck.

If Guillaume was honest, he had no reason to be happy he hadn't drawn the event. Last time he was in Sweden, and stuck due to that volcano, he had gotten along well with Madeleine, and she had never gone back on his alleged girlfriend either. As for Astrid, she was family as much as Amedeo and his siblings were, and he had never had any problems with her. Which didn't mean he didn't realise that things would get rather difficult once he and his lover came out to everyone - and Amedeo worried about that enough that it was contagious by now. That, plus the fact that he didn't feel particularly good about keeping their relationship from everyone and he was glad he had avoided spending a whole day with her.

When he finally arrived at the event location in the late afternoon, Félix was already waiting for him. The car had barely come to a stop when he already opened the door and slid on the passenger seat. "Go, go," he said while buckling up. "Really, just go."

"Is something wrong?" Guillaume asked while he carefully drove down the access road. "I would have liked to at least say hello to Astrid and Madeleine."

But his brother just shook his head. "You really don't. The tension there is thick enough to cut it with a knife. Let's just go."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, at first. Aside from working out the logistics of having to escort two women when normally you walk to events alone or with your brother, it was actually fun. Astrid pointed me in all the right directions and Madeleine seemed pleased enough," Félix explained while loosening his tie and undoing the upper two buttons of his shirt. "It all went surprisingly well, really."

"But?" Guillaume prompted when nothing more was forthcoming.

Félix sighed and shook his head. "At some point Madeleine said initially Carl Philip had been supposed to come because he'd developed some rapport with Astrid the last time, but he was busy entertaining other Belgians in Britain. Did you know Philippe is visiting with the Brits?"

"No, but I'm not surprised. From what Amedeo tells me, Uncle Albert is starting to make noises about scaling back a little more." Mentioning as much was probably safe, everyone knew he'd been spending more time with Amedeo in the last few years and it had never been noteworthy in the first place.

Nodding his acknowledgement that it made sense, his brother continued. "I don't know if this schedule change was as last minute as ours was, but I'm not sure it matters. Astrid said something really...not nice about Carl Philip and Prince William and if looks could kill, Madeleine would have to be accused of murder now. She said nothing though, at first."

"What did Astrid say?" Guillaume interrupted. Maybe it was petty, but it was likely better to know exactly what they were up against and her reaction towards William and Carl Philip would probably serve to tell them how she'd react towards them. While Amedeo said he had a pretty good idea, Guillaume was wont to find out for himself.

He could see in his peripheral vision that Félix studied him with a sidelong look, before obviously dismissing any notions he'd held. "I really wouldn't want to repeat it. It's something I never would have let stand if this hadn't been an official outing, rather than a private get-together. Under the circumstances though...well, Madeleine had far fewer scruples."

"How so?" He was glad to be concentrating on the road and not have to look at his brother. It gave him an excuse to ponder different contexts.

"Madeleine was really angry, I think. She took Astrid aside a little later, or at least when I happened to pass by one of the service passages I heard them talking and I can tell you, these Swedish princesses are truly gutsy. I wouldn't have dared talk to Astrid like that, ever. Anyway, she gave a her a pretty big piece of her mind. Madeleine is protective of her brother, I have to leave that to her." Félix seemed impressed. Not an easy feat.

"I guess she's had to be. The media wasn't only friendly towards that relationship," Guillaume remarked and saw his brother nod.

"Of course. And that's what siblings are supposed to do, stand up for each other. Considering the negative press has petered out and there haven't been any scandals yet, I suppose they're in the right with their choice. As for Astrid, I don't know what she's on about, they might be relatives, but they're not _her_ children." Now Félix looked angry, too, and part of that was reassuring.

"And if they were?" Guillaume hardly dared to breathe as he waited for the answer.

His brother shrugged. "Then it would still be their lives and their choices. It's not two hundred years ago any more, even royalty doesn't go about arranging marriages any longer." He gave it a moment's thought, then conceded, "At least the Europeans aren't."

"So you're in favour of everything?" They had never talked about this; there had never been much of a reason or Guillaume had feared he might expose himself and Amedeo too much. Or Félix simply wasn't available due to his studies in Italy, having this kind of talk over the phone was awkward.

His brother frowned. "I'm in favour of everyone getting a chance at being happy, within the confines of judicial acceptance and within the role one has to play, if such a thing exists. If Carl Philip or William were the only children of their generation I'd say they should be placing duty over love. But with things as they are, I don't see a problem with the status quo they have achieved. Why are you asking anyway?"

But Guillaume just shook his head and gave a slight shrug. "Just curious. There's been a lot going on these past years and you missed all the discussion due to being away."

"And now it's coming back to bite me in the arse," Félix sighed.

"You could come back home, then you'd no longer be excluded," Guillaume suggested.

Félix just gave him a laugh. "I will, Guillaume. Eventually. I have loose ends to tie up in Rome, maybe I'll come back then. And until then don't worry, I'll do my share of duties."

Guillaume wasn't actually worried about Félix acting his part of the royal family of Luxembourg. Everyone was entitled to their education; Guillaume had gotten his as well and had spent most of his time abroad just like his siblings, so he didn't begrudge his brothers and sister the opportunity in the least. It would just be nice to have Félix, who had always been closest to him among his siblings, where he was in easy reach. He might have provided an outside perspective while not actually being an outsider and that might have helped over the last almost-three-years.

"I know, Félix," he eventually said as they neared Colmar, "that's never been my concern."

His brother looked at him quizzically, as if he might be suspecting something was going on in his brother's life that he wasn't privy to, but didn't ask any further questions.

~*~

"I miss you."

"I miss you too. Take care. Sleep well." Guillaume rang off and put his phone aside, wishing life was less cruel.

Amedeo had been in New Zealand for six weeks now, with seven more remaining and this was only the third time they'd managed to talk on the phone. Between him being dragged off by his colleagues to see the sights and Guillaume being bound by his duties - taking a three day trip to New York City was one thing but trying to explain a week's stay in New Zealand a whole other matter - and with the time difference, they merely managed to shoot emails back and forth. It was dissatisfying, but they didn't have any other options.

What else was there to do but work? Life was a lot more dull without Amedeo around to share it at least occasionally. It had been two years and although they were only seeing each other infrequently, at least they had always managed to arrange their schedules to meet up every few weeks. But now these three months of only occasional phone calls and emails just weren't right. The only bright side of it was that at least Amedeo didn't tell him off for his smoking habit every other day, but Guillaume would have gladly traded the cigarettes for the presence of his lover.

He was aware that this time of involuntary separation was wearing on him a lot more than it probably should. After all, he knew it was finite; Amedeo would be back in New York City and even back in Belgium and they could pick up their previous schedule again. Just that this was something he didn't really want, and Guillaume was slowly coming to understand that much; he wanted Amedeo to be with him, period. However unreasonable that desire might be at this point in time, with both of them bound by duties as they were.

"Mama wants to know if you plan to come down for breakfast."

Guillaume looked up in surprise to see his youngest brother standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and looking annoyed. He scowled - he had told his siblings often enough to announce themselves before entering his apartment; he was over thirty, he was entitled to some privacy.

But before he could answer, Sébastien continued, "I knocked. You didn't answer."

"That doesn't matter, you're not supposed to come in just like that. What if I had been busy?"

"With what, practising your signature? I swear, if I didn't know better I'd say you've stopped getting laid, you've become insufferable recently. Are you coming or not?" he prompted and Guillaume could just nod his assent and wave his brother out the door.

He didn't really feel like attending family breakfast - even if it was only his parents, Sébastien and himself - but not going would mean his parents getting concerned and his mother would want to have a maternal talk with him or, worse yet, send his father to talk to him from man to man. He loved his parents and while they probably would not rip his head off for being in love with his second cousin and a man on top of it, his love woes were not something he particularly wanted to share with them. Even if they had known about Amedeo. Which they still didn't.

Of course, that was another matter they would have to talk about eventually. With William and Carl Philip firmly established and remaining more or less completely free of scandalous headlines - except for things like speculation if maybe they weren't using lube and Guillaume hoped for them they did - and those two only settling further into domesticity, it was becoming high time they told their families. Partly because Guillaume was sick of the occasional and very much concealed hints his mother dropped about taking care of the succession - Amedeo had to have his ears ringing whenever he came home to Brussels. But he also didn't fancy playing hide and seek not only with the public, which he was used to, but also with his family.

When he sat down, his mother was sorting through the private mail that had come via the Grand Ducal Palace because it was addressed to his parents in their function as Grand Ducal Couple but was semi-private correspondence in truth. "Good morning, honey. Are you feeling alright? You're looking a bit pale."

"I didn't sleep well, Mama."

Scrutinising him with a frown on her face, but eventually sighing in that motherly way, she opened another envelope, this one with a gilded edge. "Oh, look at that. Little Luisa Maria is turning eighteen this year, whenever did she get that big? It seems like they're having a full-out party the day after, family and friends. I'll RSVP for all of us, all right?"

"When's that again?" Guillaume asked while he listlessly spread butter on his toast. There was no way he could keep all birthdays of all his relatives in mind, there were simply too many of them for that.

"October 11th. A Friday, it seems, as the party is on Saturday. Good for her, I hope Astrid lets her go out with her friends." His mother sighed again and looked a little wistful. "Oh, to be eighteen again..."

His father put down the paper and threw his wife an amused glance. "You didn't know me at eighteen though."

There was some more banter between their parents that made Sébastien roll his eyes, but Guillaume didn't really pay attention. October 12th was the day Amedeo should have arrived back in Europe for a week before flying out to New York City again; they were supposed to meet at a nice hotel near the airport, as they could hardly go to either of their homes, and spent at least 24 hours in bed uninterrupted. It seemed now they would spend their first few hours back together being tortured by their families. Guillaume genuinely liked Luisa Maria, but her birthday was putting a serious crimp into his plans. Couldn't she just celebrate on another day?

Then again, if the 18th birthday parties of Amedeo and his other siblings were any indication, she had not had much say in the matter but her mother had arranged for everything.

It didn't look like fate was on their side this year. Guillaume didn't usually give much on notions like destiny and fate, he was too aware of birthduties and politics for that, but he was beginning to see the grim sense of humour it seemed to operate on. Sighing inwardly, he reached for the jam. There was an idiom about making lemonade when life gave you lemons, but if he'd had the choice, he would have taken the sugar intravenously right now.

~*~

It was hard for Guillaume to decide whether he was happy for life to go on even with Amedeo off to New Zealand, or if wishing for things to stand still until the three months were over was the more probate way to go about it. Either way, life _did_ go on and Guillaume was taking on as much work as he could get away with.

He was proud of the fundraiser for Kraizberg he had put together and he had managed to stop by several times in the last few weeks. No one who worked at the foundation or who benefited from it cared about who or what he was, and it was a sort of breathing space for him, always had been.

All of that didn't make him miss Amedeo any less though, and working from morning till night was only a temporary solution. He was well aware - even if Amedeo didn't seem to believe him most of the time - that he had his limits and that overstepping them too often would only make him drop dead all too soon. But as long as he was still young and aware of them of his own strength, he didn't see any problems. So far, he had not reached that them.

"Honey?" his mother's voice sounded from the other side of his desk and he focused his gaze on her. She must have been standing there for a while already, her eyebrows raised and head just the tiniest bit tilted. He hadn't noticed her come in.

"Yes?"

"I've been calling you for a while already, didn't you hear?" she sighed and came around the desk to peer over his shoulder. "Are you still working? It's really late."

Smiling he placed his glasses on the paperwork to dissuade her from reading his notes on his latest board meeting. It wasn't that he wanted to keep them secret as much as he didn't want her to worry more than she already did anyway. At least Amedeo could only worry from a distance, his mother on the other hand... "I'm sorry, Mama, I was woolgathering."

"So I noticed. Don't you want to go to bed already? You've been working an awful lot the past few weeks, we hardly get to see you anymore." María Teresa raised a hand and began slowly combing through his hair the same way as she had done all his life already. "Are you sure everything's all right, Guillaume?"

It wasn't the first time she was asking him that, Amedeo had been making noises like that, too - and when it was him working until deep into the night no less. What was it with everyone? But it was no use losing his patience with either his parents nor with his lover. "I'm fine, Mama. I promise I'll take it easier soon. There's just so much to do, you know?"

"I know. Go to bed, will you?" His mother stopped her caress and used her fingertips to stroke a strand out hair off his forehead. Her other hand went to the open smokes package on his desk and pocketed it. She didn't approve of the habit either.

He sighed and nodded. "Okay, Mama. I promise."

"Good," she said smiling. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

Nodding again, he turned around to face her fully. "I'll come down," he promised. "You don't need to worry about me, Mama, I know what I'm doing."

A frown spread on her forehead and she shook her head in exasperation. "That's what your father said, right before he ended up with pneumonia."

"Mama..." He'd heard that lecture way too often already and while she was right, those had been specific circumstances, with his father sick for weeks beforehand already. Although those had been scary days at first, he had to admit. At the time, he had in no way been ready to succeed and he didn't even want to imagine how it would have been, having to do it then. That was part of the reason why he kept pushing himself, because he knew he needed to be ready.

"I know, honey. I'm just making sure. Good night." One more pat to his hair and she turned to walk out of his study again.

Something occurred to him. "Mama?"

Facing him again, she regarded him from the door with a inquiring expression. "Yes?"

After two deep breaths he finally thought he'd found the right way to ask. "Do you think I'll make the right choices?"

"Regarding what?"

He shrugged. "My life. Everything. I don't know, forget it. It was just a thought."

"Guillaume?" Her voice had softened and when he looked up at her she wore the same gently chiding expression she always did when one of her children were talking about some non-nonsense. "We raised you to the best of our knowledge and the best of our ability and you have proven, repeatedly, that you're more than able to meet the challenges presented to you. I suppose it's safe to say you're able to weight your own decisions and make the right ones. And if you're not sure, you still have siblings and parents to ask for advice."

It took a long moment of looking at her, the realisation that she meant what she was saying and that his decision regarding Amedeo and his own future would be respected slowly sinking in, until he could finally nod his assent. "I know. I just... Thank you."

"Anytime. Good night, Guillaume," she said firmly and turned around to leave for good.

"Good night, Mama."

~*~

Guillaume was rather sure that there had been a UN convention against torture since the 1980s, signed and ratified by both Luxembourg and Belgium. Consequently, he had to wonder why the royal families of both countries seemed to be excluded from that, as there was no other word for what he was going through here but torture.

Amedeo was here in the same room with him, practically within reach, yet Guillaume couldn't go near him because he knew he'd be lost if he did. So he was keeping his distance, much to his own - and quite obviously Amedeo's - frustration. They had not exchanged two words with one another, but their eyes kept locking from across the room and it was simply unbearable. He yearned for Amedeo's touch, his scent, his voice whispering directly into Guillaume's ear without the interpretation of a phone line.

"Guillaume, is everything okay?" Alexandra stood in front of him, a frown on her face and with one hand placed carefully on his arm, as if she needed to keep hold of him. "You're looking...harried."

"I'm fine," he said and tried to turn away but she just increased the pressure to his biceps.

"You're white as a sheet and keep looking around as if someone's after your hide. Here, drink this." She pressed a glass of champagne into his hand and watched him as he took a few mandatory sips from it. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I've had a few stressful weeks and maybe that's catching up now. I'm tired and I'm tired of being tired," he sighed. That much was the truth; he'd been working too much ever since Amedeo had been gone, as distraction and to make some room for them once his lover was back on this side of the globe. No one would remark on him taking a few days of breathing space with the amount of appointments he'd kept in the last few months.

His sister watched him silently for a minute and he tried anything to keep his eyes averted, searched the room, found Amedeo, looked away again. Alexandra quickly followed the direction of his gaze, eyes narrowed. "Did you manage to have a fight with Amedeo within hours of him being back home?"

At the mention of his lover's name Guillaume looked up in panic and didn't manage to conceal it again quickly enough. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous."

"Then you were in a fight before he left already? Guillaume, really. And I thought both of you were grown ups by now. I want you to make up with him." Her tone of voice reminded him an awful lot of their mother.

"Alexandra-"

"Do it or I'll tell Mama. You have until tomorrow. And no scene, Luisa might not be all happy with this party but that's no reason that you two idiots have to to ruin it completely." With that his sister turned around and stalked away while muttering something highly unflattering about his gender. Maybe growing up with four brothers had ruined her for marriage completely. Their mother was probably highly relieved, there certainly would not be any surprise grandchildren from her daughter at least. That left the question of how thrilled she'd be about there not being any - surprise or otherwise - from her eldest son.

Guillaume pinched the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick he'd adopted from Amedeo, and downed the rest of the champagne before starting to look around for another distraction. It was too early yet for him to disappear, let alone for Amedeo as the brother of the birthday girl, so he had to pass the time somehow. He had not counted on his lover making straight towards him at that moment, causing him to betake himself to flight.

Running straight into Laetitia had not been on his agenda but he decided that probably nothing better could have happened. At ten, she was thrilled to be allowed to stay up longer for the celebration of her elder sister's birthday and she was forever looking for someone to lead her patiently through the easier ballroom dances.

Out of the corner of his eye, Guillaume saw his lover look on for a moment with an expression of amused resignation on his face, while Alexandra was tapping her foot in annoyance quite deliberately and threw a pointed look at their mother across the room. Why was it that nothing ever seemed to go according to plan this year? He sighed in frustration but turned smiling towards Laetitia, who had begun tugging at his clothing already to regain his attention.

It was an eternity before he dared to go looking for Amedeo again and spotted him on the sidelines of the dance floor. Alexandra stood talking with one of their cousins not too far away and he made for them first. "Hey."

"Now, if it isn't my brother. Did you do what I tasked you with already or do I need parental support?" Alexandra asked and ignored her previous conversation partner mid-sentence.

Guillaume rolled his eyes. "Actually, that's why I'm here. You're right about Amedeo, I guess we should discuss...the matter. If anyone's looking for us, could you let them know? It might take a while, though."

Alexandra raised one eyebrow but had the grace not to inquire further. "Sure. It's good you're seeing sense, maybe you're not as hopeless as I thought. Now," she turned towards their cousin again, "sorry about that but my idiot brother sometimes needs some time to see reason."

Guillaume left them at it and ambled over to his lover. "Hi," he simply said and smiled.

"Hey," Amedeo responded with a smile that seemed to illuminate the room further. "Talking to me after all, are you?"

He sighed, aware that he was not making it easier on them with his behaviour this evening. "Sorry. What do you say we talk about that somewhere private?"

Eyebrows raised, Amedeo licked his lips looked around. "Are you quite sure about that?"

"If anyone asks, Alexandra has figured out we had a fight and are making up now. What do you say?"

Amedeo emptied his glass in one swallow and set it down on a table near them. "Let's go."

It was a short walk, yet Guillaume could hardly wait until the door fell shut behind them, key turned in the lock.

"Had a fight, did we?" he asked in between frantically kissing Guillaume breathless, tearing at clothes and seeking skin now that they were alone in one of the remote side buildings that had been assigned to Amedeo so he would be able to get some uninterrupted sleep after his flight. Making their way to the bed as quickly as possible and getting undressed at the same time didn't turn out to be so easy, though.

"Never argue with your sister," Guillaume advised while freeing Amedeo's shirt from his trousers and opening his belt, "especially if she offers you a viable excuse for something you want. You should know that well enough yourself. Do that again."

His lover had opened enough buttons of his shirt to reach his skin and nipped at his collar bone. With a mischievous grin full of promises Amedeo did it again, but a little more to the soft side of his throat and it was even better now that Guillaume knew it was coming. He gasped, tilted his head to give better access and enjoy for a moment, before finally making short work of Amedeo's trousers after giving him a good shove to make him tumble backwards onto the bed.

"Bossy," he chided mockingly and reached out to pull Guillaume down with him.

Guillaume went quite willingly, having missed the intimacy between them far too much in the time they'd been apart. "Not like you don't want it," he murmured against Amedeo's skin as he kissed his way from the navel upwards. He paid attention to minute details and this new yet familiar exploration seemed to take forever, yet seemed to be over far too quickly, not least because Amedeo lost his patience halfway through and pulled Guillaume to him.

"I want it," he said with every bit of deliberation he seemed to be able to muster and looked into Guillaume eyes. That was the moment Guillaume knew, just knew, he was lost and more foreplay would have to wait for later before leaning forward and closing the distance between their lips.

When he woke up several hours later, he had one arm arm thrown over Amedeo's midriff and that arm had gone numb, probably the reason for his waking state. He looked at his lover's face and sighed quietly. The sex had been mindblowing - over way too quick but mindblowing nonetheless - and it was somewhat ironic that almost the first thing they were doing after three months apart was sleeping. But that time had left them both drained, physically and emotionally, and they both had needed some rest.

Guillaume had found that he slept better when his life was in balance and for him, Amedeo provided exactly that balance. He could deal with bi-monthly or monthly visits but these three months had thrown him for a loop but good. There was only guessing what it had been like for Amedeo, for he had to leave his familiar surroundings on top of everything and that could not have been easy, even though his lover had never said anything to that regard.

Dropping a kiss to Amedeo's naked shoulder he pulled the duvet further up and scooted even closer. Leave it to the Belgians to assign Amedeo with a bed big enough to accommodate two people. Closing his eyes again, Guillaume hoped there'd be a time when it was _their_ bed; distantly he thought that he had to be very exhausted indeed if he considered that a real possibility any time soon.

~*~

Life went back to normal all too soon after Amedeo had come back from New Zealand; he returned to New York after too few, too short days which they couldn't really spend together because of family obligations on both their parts.

Several weeks later, they were back to their habit of transcontinental flights, but thanks to Guillaume moving his standing appointments around a little, they managed to see one another almost regularly. It was during one of Guillaume's New York visits that he realised even in a city like The City, they did not possess as much anonymity as they might have fooled themselves into thinking they had.

They were sitting in a little café which Amedeo said was one of his favourite haunts, talking quietly, when he was tapped on the shoulder from behind and when he turned around saw himself confronted with Princess Madeleine of Sweden. She blinked, put a hand to her lips in astonishment and eventually managed to say, "Guillaume! It's really you!"

Smiling a little self-consciously he got up quickly - and noticed in his peripheral vision that Amedeo was doing the same seconds later - and indicated one of the empty lounge chairs at their table. "Madeleine. What a pleasure to see you here, and so unexpected. Would you care to join us? Do you know my cousin, Amedeo?"

Taking the invitation, after a quick hint at the waiter where she could be found, she sat down in one fluid movement customary to someone who was used to making their way around a room while wearing ball gowns. "By association. It's nice to finally meet you personally, instead of right across a room, Amedeo."

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," Amedeo answered in his best princely tone of voice and a half bow that made an amused smile appear on her face.

But she just waved off. "Madeleine, please. We're not here in an official capacity. What _are_ you two doing here? Did you drag your cousin here on business, Guillaume?" She eyed Amedeo. "You're not even doing official appointments, are you?"

Amedeo shook his head. "Not with any kind of regularity. I live and work here. Guillaume's visiting."

That seemed to surprise her and she turned to look at him. "You are?"

"It's not a novel concept," Guillaume grumbled as the waiter appeared and set Madeleine's café au lait and Guillaume's espresso in front of them.

The princess waited until he was gone again, then continued their discussion. "Well, it kind of is. I didn't even think you _ever_ went on holidays." She considered this, eyeing is informal attire appraisingly - the jeans she had made him buy - as Guillaume threw a sidelong glance at Amedeo, who was having a hard time not grinning. "Then again, I suppose you have to, how else would you see your girlfriend? Certainly not in Luxembourg, not even you can be that discreet; you'd have ended up in the tabloids in no time flat."

Amedeo choked on his cappuccino and started coughing hard enough that Guillaume thought his lover might need a lung transplant in the next few minutes and that would be it with running marathons then. Madeleine leaned over and patted him on the back until Amedeo had caught his breath again and was leaning back in his chair, breathing hard. "Okay?" she asked.

He nodded, eyes brimming with tears. "Thanks, yes."

"Didn't know your cousin had a girlfriend, eh? You're good at keeping secrets, Guillaume." The last was said with a wink in his direction while she took her hand away from Amedeo's shoulder.

"I told you-," he started to say, exasperated, when he was interrupted by her.

"-you don't have a girlfriend, I know. Keep saying it, maybe one day I'll believe you." She gathered the cup in her hands and sipped slowly. "I've got to tell Mette-Marit I met you during leisure time, she'll never believe me."

"And what is a Swedish princess doing in New York, without her husband or baby?" Amedeo asked, still grinning and having mouthed 'girlfriend?' to Guillaume behind Madeleine's back and pointed at himself.

She smiled fondly. "Back home, of course. I'm only here for the weekend for a Childhood function and I wouldn't want to put them under all that stress for a mere three days. Besides, Carl is home and babysitting, and between his uncle and his father, my baby-boy will be fine. Would you like to see pictures?"

And while Amedeo made all the right noises over the images saved to Madeleine's phone, Guillaume frowned. William and Carl Philip had only announced their wedding a little while ago and now Carl Philip was in Sweden again already? "I thought your brother was staying in Britain now?"

Madeleine looked up, shrugged. "Carl is still a part of the Swedish royal family and for all intents and purposes, he will stay just that even after his wedding, as far as I'm concerned. And William is away on some RAF manoeuvre for a few weeks, so Carl has come home to put in some work. With Vicky pregnant again, we need all the help we can get." She handed the phone to him as well and he scrolled through the pictures. Madeleine and her husband looked happy, their little boy just bubbly. "And he says he can do his designing better in Sweden, he's doing stuff with metal frames and rice paper and Uncle Sigvard's scrawly pattern. Although that looks a lot like what Carl has come up with in kindergarten, so he might be simply nostalgic there."

Amedeo asked a few more questions while they finished their coffee, but Guillaume only paid attention with half an ear. How many other people had seen them together in the last few years already? Not that it really mattered, they _were_ relatives and they never got up to anything untoward in public (except for kissing hello and hugging goodbye at the airport but any risks there were negligible).

It was probably a good thing William and Carl Philip were finally getting around to tying the knot, even if it was still a year off; it would make things easier for Amedeo and himself beyond next fall. Still, maybe it was time they got a little more careful in public; the longer they were together, the more unconscious their gestures towards each other got. Part of it was their long familiarity, but another large part was simply the fact that they had been together long enough - even if it was in bits and increments - that certain things had started to become natural and unthinking.

Eventually, Madeleine announced she had to go and took her leave in the same almost-flurry she had arrived in and Amedeo turned towards him. "Do I even want to know?"

"She heard me on the phone last time we were stuck in Sweden," Guillaume explained and reached for his glass of water, ever so innocently brushing Amedeo's hand as he set down his cup. "I could hardly tell her the truth."

Amedeo sat in his seat for a moment, contemplating. "With her, you probably could have. I mean, with Carl Philip and William..."

"No."

"Guillaume, you know my opinion on the matter - not in the least because of how my mother will react - but letting her think you have a girlfriend..." Amedeo shrugged helplessly.

"You forget Theodora." Who he would meet again two weeks hence, when he was in Los Angelos for a few meetings.

His lover smirked. "I think Madeleine is aware of the fact that what's going on between you and Theodora has nothing to do with romantic entanglements."

"You think?"

Amedeo nodded firmly. "I'm sure of it."

Sighing, Guillaume let that sink in. "Any suggestions where that's concerned?"

"Short of marrying Theodora tomorrow and getting her pregnant, I don't think Madeleine is going to be convinced any more than Theodora is," Amedeo returned drily.

"And there I thought you actually liked having me around."

"Oh, I love having you around. That's why you're mine and Theodora only gets you for pretend."

Guillaume acknowledged his lover a long, flat look and threw a napkin at him. Amedeo answered in kind but with a blown kiss. Which would have been all fine if they were normal people but as things stood... He sighed again, got out of the chair and nodded towards the large windows. "Care for a walk?"

Amedeo looked at him quizzically and followed him outside. More innocent stuff for them to do before they went back to Amedeo's flat later and got up to things much less innocent.

~*~

When Guillaume woke up in Amedeo's bed two days later, his limbs felt as if they were made of lead and he had a roaring headache.

"You're awake," he heard his lover's voice from the wrong side of him and when he looked up, Amedeo was sitting on the edge of the mattress, hovering.

Guillaume blinked. The curtains were drawn and muted daylight filtered into the room from outside. His throat felt raw and mutilated, as if he'd just smoked a whole pack of cigarettes at once, and when he attempted to speak, his voice wouldn't cooperate. Amedeo seemed to have anticipated this, as he was ready with a glass of water which he handed to him, without letting go of it though, and Guillaume found out why when he tried to sit up and his mind went so fuzzy he had to lie back again. "Easy," his love soothed as he helped him drink. "Better?"

"Yes," Guillaume croaked and still didn't sound like himself. "What-"

"You've been running a fever since last night. I don't know how much you remember, you were pretty out of it from two in the morning onwards," Amedeo cut him off after setting the glass back on the floor. He reached out and laid his hand on Guillaume're forehead. "We'll need to check again but I think the fever has gone down a little."

He didn't remember anything from last night; what he _did_ remember was that he had a flight later that afternoon he needed to make. But when he made to sit up again, Amedeo pushed him down gently. "You're staying put, Guillaume."

"I have to get home," he said slowly, straining to make his voice sound as normal as possible. There was no time for him to be sick.

"You have to get healthy again, and a transatlantic flight is not going to help with that. You don't even have the strength to get up, how will you live through getting to the airport, let alone checking in and security?" Amedeo shook his head, then bent down and kissed him quickly on the lips. "I'm going to call your parents now, love. Let them know you're staying for a few extra days to recuperate."

Guillaume wanted nothing more than to protest, but the look Amedeo was aiming at him made him subside quickly. Instead, he watched as his lover picked up the phone and hit dial. It figured he would have numbers of Guillaume's family members saved in it. "Hello Aunt María Teresa, this is Amedeo. ... No, I'm fine. Look, it seems Guillaume has caught a cold or something, he's running a pretty high fever and has a sore throat. I've put him in my bed for now," Amedeo flashed him a grin, as if Guillaume wasn't always in his bed anyway, "but he insists on keeping his flight this afternoon. ... Uh-huh. ... Sure."

He pressed a button on his phone and held it out towards Guillaume. "Go ahead."

His mother's voice sounded from the device, commanding and determined. "Guillaume, I just told Amedeo to make you stay put and if he has to chain you to bed. You hear? I don't want to see you back here unless you can keep on your feet without assistance, you hear?"

At that point, Amedeo took the phone back to his ear, disabled the speaker and said, "He dropped back into the pillow, I guess he got the message. ... Uh-huh. ... Okay, Aunt María Teresa, I will. You take care of yourselves over there, too. Bye."

It was only after he put away the device again that he came over to sit at Guillaume's side once more, bent down and tangled one hand in his sweaty hair. "Do I have to get out the handcuffs or will you be good?" he asked quietly.

Guillaume wanted to, but he just didn't feel like protesting; loathe to admit it, but he was cold even though he felt that it was comfortably warm in Amedeo's flat, maybe even uncomfortably warm beneath the blankets. "I'll stay."

"Good," his lover answered with a smile. "Now let's see what we're talking about, shall we?"

Guillaume was surprised to discover Amedeo owned one of those modern ear-piece thermometers; but as his lover pointed out, matters like that fell into the care of mothers and Astrid was nothing if not thorough in making sure her children were well taken care of. It turned out he still was running a fever - no surprise there - but that it was only barely near threatening. Amedeo frowned but didn't seem overly concerned and left to make tea and get more analgesia.

Drifting off to sleep, Guillaume wondered in the back of his mind where he had picked up the infection, but decided to leave it for later. He woke up again when his name was called softly and Amedeo made him drink of the still-warm, sweetened tea and take several pills before he fell into a fitful sleep again.

When he opened his eyes for the third time that day he still felt leaden but not cold anymore. Instead, he was snuggled close to Amedeo, who was lying fully dressed on the blankets and had one arm slung around him. His eyes were closed but Guillaume could hear his lover wasn't asleep, his breathing pattern didn't fit.

"I'm going to pass whatever this is to you," he said in a whisper, his voice still not cooperating.

Amedeo took one deep breath and blinked open his eyes. "Whatever it is, I likely already have it. I'm not putting my immune system under the same strain as you, though, my love." He bent down to press a kiss to Guillaume's forehead. "I think your temperature has gone down a little. How are you feeling?"

"Just perky," Guillaume whispered with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

A smile was aimed at him and his lover pulled him closer for a moment before he levered himself up and reached over to his night stand and produced a bottle of water. Guillaume sat up, and it worked much better than that morning, and drank down half the bottle at once. "I'm not sure that was a good idea," Amedeo sighed and put it away again. "Do you want something to eat?"

Guillaume shook his head, but remained sitting upright. "Not now." His voice was a little firmer after the water, but still sounded hoarse. "Thank you. For taking care of me."

But Amedeo just shook his head. "Shush, you. There's no need to thank me." He leaned over and pecked Guillaume on the cheek. "I love you, you're my betrothed, this goes without saying. Get it into your thick skull already that I'll take care of you even against your will. And I'm not opposed to chaining you to the bed either," he smirked and waggled his eyebrows.

A heavy sigh escaped Guillaume and he briefly considered to ask Amedeo to get him his files so he could do some work, but quickly thought better of it when he remembered the last time that had almost seen his paperwork strewn all over New York City. And then it was only minutes before he felt exhausted again and lay back down. He just wanted to close his eyes for a minute; Amedeo still sitting beside him, having taken up a book.

When he was lying there, snug and cosy within the blankets of Amedeo's bed, his hair being petted by his lover while every once in a while a turned page whispered, he thought about how long it had been since someone had remained with him all the time when he was sick. He must have still been a child; as the oldest of five siblings he had been expected to take care of himself early on to not infect anyone else, and there it didn't matter if he was the heir to the throne of Luxembourg. This, he knew, was pure luxury and that Amedeo was willing to be with him meant more to Guillaume than he was able to express in his fever-induced exhaustion.

And this made it all the harder for him to hug Amedeo goodbye only three days later. Even with the knowledge that they would be together again not two weeks hence, letting go became increasingly more difficult with each time they had to do it.

~*~

Guillaume hadn't known Theodora by much more than name and sight before she had gone to Hollywood, save for a few words exchanged during festivities here and there, so their meetings had always been only semi-regular whenever she came back to Europe to visit her family. But even considering that much, ever since producers and directors had figured out that having a princess born and bred (who was officially dating a real prince no less) appearing in their credits increased their revenues substantially, he had seen her less and less. Americans were weird that way.

So when another trip to further Luxembourgian business interests took him to Los Angeles, it was a lucky coincidence she was in town at the time. With her, one could never know as she tended to pick films with location shoots all over the globe.

They met in a little restaurant with a deck out back that faced the beach and despite the fact that it was the rainy season, this seemed to one of the few warm and sunny days and Guillaume quite enjoyed to be sitting outside in the warm sunshine when at home winter was starting to set in. Theodora wasn't quite as tanned as Guillaume might have expected, but maybe that was a requirement for getting her parts; on the other hand, with a light complexion such as hers, she should stay out of the sun altogether, Guillaume thought.

They had gossiped about William and Carp Philip during most of their lunch, but where discussing other topics now.

"It's interesting how New York seems to be plastered with royalty, but out here? Hardly anyone," Theodora said as they waited for their coffee, eyes on the blue Pacific. They were seated so they did get some sun, but didn't have to squint which made for an interesting effect as she looked at the ocean and again, Guillaume had to think of valkyries for some reason.

"They're shying away from all the Hollywood people," Guillaume nodded. Amedeo had said something along those lines, how he and other fellow royals tended to avoid the really chic places unless they wanted to be seen. "Not everyone can be as brave as you, my lady."

Theodora gave him an amused smile. "Charming. So what are your plans for after this?"

"A meeting for dinner with some higher ups or other. I'd offer you to be my date, but it'll be all business and probably bore you out of your mind. Tomorrow morning I'll fly out to New York, actually, to bunk down with Amedeo for two days. His mother is convinced he's terribly homesick and asked if it wasn't possible for me to visit." That had been awkward, considering Guillaume had planned a stopover at Amedeo's anyway, but he could hardly tell Astrid. Under the circumstances, he could hardly have told her the reason for his visit.

The princess across from him tilted her head. "I have a working dinner myself, we're discussing a few changes to several scenes."

"Too bad. Maybe your brother would be interested, considering he's been glowering at me all through lunch," Guillaume joked and looked to where Pavlos, Crown Prince of the Hellenes, and his wife were sitting just a few tables away from theirs.

Theodora gave a rather un-ladylike snort and waved off. "Ignore him. Mother sent him to make sure you're not ravaging me on the table. He's harmless. And this is L.A., bringing your same-sex partner to dinner is perfectly acceptable. I'm just not sure what Marie will have to say about that."

Guillaume didn't know if he wanted to find out. With five children at home, Pavlos' wife was bound to be equally scary as Guillaume's own mother and he didn't fancy maternal wrath. "Pass," he said with a smile and Theodora grinned knowingly. "Shall we, then?"

They had paid a little while ago already, Guillaume had of course invited Theodora as was proper on a date and now he offered her his arm as they made their way outside. "I forget you were raised a gentleman. Not at all like your cousin," she said obviously pleased and slipped her arm through his. "He doesn't even get up when a young princess joins him for lunch."

Guillaume could clearly feel her brother's stare boring in his back and was momentarily distracted so he almost stumbled. "Which cousin?" he asked with a frown but refrained from throwing a look behind them. Obviously, Theodora had not noticed his almost-slip, or was graciously ignoring it.

"Amedeo, of course. You were talking of him," she answered with another smile that clearly showed her amusement. "He's one of those I keep running into when I'm in New York. Clearly - just like you - he's a loss to womanhood, with those manners!" A sigh from deep in her chest and Guillaume had to bite his lip not to laugh out loud. If only she knew how close she was to the truth.

"You know, my dear, if you weren't an actress already I would right now advise you to become one." They had arrived outside and the valet flagged down two cabs for them. This being L.A., Guillaume hadn't bothered with a rental and Theodora didn't want to bother with city traffic. Unfortunately, they had to go into different directions, so Guillaume bent down low and kissed her hand. That garnered a few looks from the small crowd of onlookers, but no one would dare say his courtship wasn't old-fashioned. And perfectly chaste. "My lady."

Theodora smiled, tilted her head and nodded at him before stepping towards the waiting cab. "I'll see you soon, Guillaume. Take care of yourself."

He nodded back at her. "Theodora." And with that she was gone.

Guillaume spent the evening in pleasant company and reached LAX with plenty of time to spare for once.

"Why does she always have to die in her movies?" Amedeo asked the next evening when they were lying together on the sofa, watching as a large butcher knife protruded from the chest of the younger Princess of Greece and Denmark. "She's never going to get an Oscar for that."

"Maybe she wants to be revolutionary?" Guillaume suggested and shifted his weight so he was more snugly pressed to Amedeo. Heavenly. He could fall asleep like this, if he didn't have other plans for the evening.

"She is already, what with starting this career in the first place. We had actresses who became a princess but this..." Amedeo trailed off, frowned as if to confirm his statement and let his hand idly run down Guillaume's back. "She doesn't know about us, does she?"

"No. But she thinks you have a the worst manners any prince could possibly have, so she's not interested in you," he murmured and brought one of his hands up to let his fingertips tap, just lightly, against Amedeo's throat - pulse point, jugular, larynx, windpipe. His lover gave an appreciative sigh and dipped his head for a kiss.

"I had the discussion about my suitability with her already, she was not overly interested by the end of it. Now that we've seen her die, shall we abandon the movie and move this to the bedroom? There's more space there. A bed. And lube." He kissed Guillaume again and it did take a while until they could make it off the sofa and into the other room.

Two days later, Guillaume wished, not for the first time, he were able to sleep on flights. They had not gotten a lot of rest and his mother would look at him with that disapproving expression, telling him without any words what she thought of him partying all night when he was in America visiting his cousin. And not for the first time, Guillaume wished he could just out and say it already. But they needed to plan carefully for that, it couldn't be done on a whim. He understood that. Still.

If wishes were horses...

~*~

Meeting Amedeo in official capacity as representative of Belgium was not something Guillaume had an easy time getting used to. Partly, Guillaume was sure, he owed that to the fact that as long as they both had been adults, Amedeo had been as much part of the real world as the royal one. Another part surely was the fact of knowing Amedeo most intimately, and both of them would, given the choice, probably spend their time together differently, not cutting ribbons.

And then this was only the second event they were working together.

Living in neighbouring countries, Guillaume had worked several events with Philippe and Astrid in the past. Doing this with Amedeo took some adjusting, since everyone did these things a little differently, especially when they weren't used to doing it regularly.

Today they were opening a new historical museum off the N4 - which would hopefully live off petrol tourism and as a getaway spot rather than the resident population - housed in two buildings. Actually, it was a quite clever idea, the sponsors had had a short access road built and the two buildings were located one on each side of the border. The museum was designed to show rotating exhibits detailing the common and individual history of the two countries (and partly of the Netherlands, as that was intrinsically tied to both). If done right, this could be interesting enough.

They had made their speeches in German and French, cut the ribbon to the access road and were now making smalltalk with the event organisers. Who were beyond pleased the Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg himself had been assigned to their cause, and Amedeo was gaining a little profile for himself as well. It irked Guillaume to no end that they hadn't managed to speak two private words with each other since arriving, as they had been kept in the buildings on their respective sides of the border before trekking out to cut the ribbon, but there was nothing to be done about it.

But at least they got to see more of each other these days. With Amedeo slowly becoming a working royal, and Guillaume knew very well what it had cost his lover to make the decision to give up his job, he was spending more time in Brussels, which meant more opportunities to meet up - officially and unofficially.

"That perfect mask of fake attention is a hallmark of royalty, I suppose," he heard Amedeo's voice in undertones and turned around to face him. This time, his smile was genuine.

"It gets passed down from generation to generation, I think," he responded and let his fingers ever so innocently brush against Amedeo's hand.

The smile he received in response was smooth, but appreciative. "Mastering it as a rite of passage? Interesting." They had one of those rare moments of peace when everyone figured the two royalties were either discussing matters of great importance or comparing the monetary worth of their cuff links.

"Are you free tomorrow?" Guillaume changed the topic to something that actually mattered and wished he could just reach out and touch.

But Amedeo just shook his head. "My mother is having me escorting her to one of her events and I'll have to leave for New York the day after. But I'll be back for ten whole days in two weeks, how's that sound?"

"Too good to be true," he admitted and sighed. People where expecting them to mingle a little more instead of standing together, chatting. "Can we get away for a little while then?"

Finding uninterrupted time wasn't easy, because they both essentially lived with their families and were hardly ever alone. Which made it an advantage that Amedeo was still spending some of his time in New York City, where there was an apartment where they could be alone, if they so chose.

"We'll just have to try," Amedeo said quietly and shrugged before finding himself in a talk with the curator of the Luxembourgian building.

Half an hour later they were touring the Belgian building and his hosts had gone ahead already, or maybe Guillaume had hung back, and he had a moment of shock when he was grabbed roughly around the upper arm and dragged along. Amedeo was grinning down at him and only stopped them when he had pulled them around a corner and out of sight of casual glances.

Without a word said, Amedeo captured his mouth and started to kiss him deeply. Guillaume put up only a second's worth of token resistance - what if anyone saw them, this was way too dangerous - before giving in and angling Amedeo's head so he could kiss him back better. This was definitely not what he had expected, but he certainly didn't mind.

When they broke apart they were breathing hard but couldn't quite stop kissing, if only lightly. His lover chuckled between kisses and Guillaume had to pull him down and seal his lips properly once more. Barely two minutes had passed when he released Amedeo. "You're completely crazy."

"You might have said so before," Amedeo chuckled again, then grinned and made to leave again. "I'll behave now, don't worry. And stop smoking already, I hate it when you taste like tobacco and nicotine."

Guillaume looked him over and sighed. At least they both still looked presentable and not as dishevelled as they might have under different circumstances. "Amedeo," he called out quietly and the other man turned around, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Thank you." His lover would know he didn't mean the kiss.

Amedeo smiled. "I love you too, Guillaume." With that he walked off, so they wouldn't appear back at the group together, even though no one would probably suspect anything. But they had to be careful for a few more months, yet. They had managed for years, surely they would make it another few months, until the two idiots of the Anglo-Swedish connection had been safely married off.

Until then, they could only hope and make the most of their still quite limited time together.

Guillaume patted down his suit jacket to straighten out invisible wrinkles and made his way back to his hosts as well.

~*~

"You'll never get an Academy Award if you keep dying in your movies," Guillaume remarked, echoing Amedeo's words from a while ago as he hurriedly sat down in the chair across from Theodora. He was late, he knew, but that wasn't his fault with the Eurostar hopelessly overbooked due to yet another ash cloud. Icelandic volcanoes were his nemesis ever since one had stranded him in Russia a couple of years ago.

Theodora lowered the wine list to throw him a measured look. "I do make a pretty corpse though."

"Marvellous," Guillaume assured her and accepted a wine list and menu from a hovering waiter with a nod. "You know what you want?"

"I already ordered the salmon, I've been here a while. The Merlot, please," she said to the waiter who signalled his assent not without one raised eyebrow and vanished without a sound.

"Take your complains to the volcano." Guillaume shrugged and decided on the veal. "How are you doing?"

She smiled at him. "I merely made a statement, it wasn't a complaint. If I hadn't planned on staying with my parents for a while anyway, I'd be rather angry to be stuck here. You?"

Time to fess up to the very first person, it wasn't like it was getting any easier the longer he waited. "I'm getting married next May," he stated calmly and watched as her eyes went wide. He was probably lucky she hadn't choked on her water.

"You're not- You _are_ serious!" He nodded. "Who?" she demanded to know.

"Later. Are you invited to William's wedding?" Of course she was, but that was beside the point here. It was simply better if she didn't yell his plans around the whole place, considering his parents didn't even know - even though it was unlikely anyone here would recognise him. Theodora was something like his practise run; she already knew he was gay at least, even though she hadn't been aware he was seeing anyone. For all anyone else knew, she and Guillaume had been in marriage negotiations all these years.

She rolled her eyes. "They're my second and third cousins; if they didn't invite me, I'd be pretty insulted. My brother tells me, though, that you won't be attending?" Her wine arrived and he ordered his food before facing her once more.

"I have a deal with William," he conceded and reached over and took the wine away from her. "Get a white one, my dear."

Theodora of Greece and Denmark, actress and part-time valkyrie, glowered at him in a way that promised bloody murder if he ever did that again, but he just smiled. Curiosity killed the cat and as long as he still had the trump of his relationship up his sleeve, she would do nothing. "Does CP know about that? What happens if I bring you as my plus one?"

"Heavens, no. Carl Philip might seriously have me assassinated if he knew I was talking with his fiancé behind his back. And William would be rightfully furious with me. I'll leave my parents to amuse themselves with Carl Philip's, they always come back from Sweden in high spirits." He shrugged as Theodora's salmon came and she ordered more wine for herself. "So, what else is new? Have I missed any good scandals?"

"I'll tattle to Andrea if you don't tell me immediately who the lucky guy is." The thing about Theodora was, any threat she made was to be taken seriously. And while Andrea Casiraghi, as a Monegasque, was probably as discreet as could be, he was still one of the people Guillaume needed to have a clearing talk with...some day. Preferably before the man got to hear any incriminating details. She narrowed her eyes. "Come on, Guillaume, you know me better than that."

He sighed, toyed with his glass for a moment and then looked her straight into the eye. "You told me you've met Amedeo."

Blinking she sat back and he could almost see the wheels in her head turning. "But he's your-"

"I don't think we need to concern ourselves too much with genetics, Theodora," he interrupted her quickly, because he really didn't want to go there. And it wouldn't be the first time someone married a second cousin anyway, there were plenty of precedences and Aunt Marie-Astrid was only the latest one in a long line within his own family. And she had married an Imperial Highness too, there were plenty of arguments in their favour.

"True," she agreed. "But isn't he a Habsburg?"

"So?"

She shrugged. "I keep hearing Habsburgs are nuts." Historic precedence not withstanding, it wasn't hard to guess who had been telling her that.

His food arrived and they fell silent for a moment, until the waiter had left again. "Contrary to what Andrea Casiraghi might have told you, Amedeo is normal enough, thank you."

"Sorry dear. Your one-sided little aversion towards Andrea is truly worrisome." Her mouth quirked upwards and she patted his hand. "Does that mean my convenient meetings with you will end?"

He laughed. "Well, at least your excuse not to find a nice, suitable young man will go away now."

Sighing theatrically, she leaned back and contemplated the other guests conveniently seated in little alcoves to preserve privacy. "That means my mother will be at it again."

"Now surely, it can't be that bad," he responded soothingly and smiled at her.

Theodora raised one eyebrow and contemplated him for a moment. "Did you ever hear how they married off my aunt?" That aunt probably being Queen Sophia of Spain, because how Queen Margrethe had imported her husband was...infamous.

"No?"

"They arranged for a little cruise, a ship full of young royals. Meet and greet and hopefully marry the young girls off to suitable young men of royal pedigree. That's where my aunt met Juan Carlos." Her expression turned to sufferance. "And now that you're abandoning me, they will do the same to me. Imagine the idiots they will set me up with now!"

Guillaume had to pull himself together not to laugh. "So don't go on cruises the next while." He considered. "You know, when I tell my parents - and my siblings - it won't take long for them to figure out that Félix is up to providing the heir now. He might not be single at the moment, but..."

She stared at him, and he was sure that was the look the Greek heroes of old had seen on the Hydra, before turning to stone. Maybe, after three years of meeting up regularly and teasing her about her mother's plans for her, he had finally managed to go too far and he would die here and now, before he would ever have to face his parents. "Philippos is taking my father's throne before I'll marry a Nassau _or_ a Bourbon-Parma, let alone both." Her smile turned toothy. "Besides, I'm Greek Orthodox, I don't qualify."

He swallowed, well aware he had just evaded death by internal combustion. "Ah," he cleared his throat, "too bad. You would have been the ideal daughter-in-law, as far as my mother is concerned, I'm sure."

"Guillaume." There was a warning tone in her voice.

"I'll shut up now."

Nodding, she took another bite of her salmon. "You do that, or I'll tell Andrea you want an orgy with him and his former step-brothers."

Guillaume shuddered and remembered the scary reality of her threats before taking a renewed interested in what was left of his veal.

~*~

It should be simple.

When one lived in a European, secularised country with an open-minded society, a person should be able to go to their loving parents and tell them one was gay. Not only that, but that one was in a long-term, stable, committed relationship and had been for a while already.

Most people would probably have been able to do that.

When one was the oldest son in a noble, even ruling, family though, matters could not be that simple. Not when you were expected to be the one ruling one day, raise the next generation under your wing, get them ready to rule and step down when they had children of their own old enough to take care of themselves.

No, Guillaume decided, it wasn't simple. Not even when two of your peers had just gone ahead and set precedent two weeks ago, and when one of them was heir to the British throne, too. He sighed and entered his parents' living room without knocking, finding his mother watching a film on dvd, his father pretending to read a book and not pay attention to the sappy romance storyline.

He was desperately itching for a smoke.

"It's rare for you to come watch a film with us," his mother remarked as she pressed the pause button to look at him. Paper whispered as his father turned a page, not commenting more than a grumbled complaint as the dialogue stopped.

Guillaume looked at the screen, a young woman in tears. He just hoped the evening wouldn't end similarly between them here. "I thought I could talk to you, actually."

Henri lowered the book and regarded him over the rim of his spectacles. "Did something happen?"

"No, not...acutely." He frowned, turning to face his father. "You remember, when I broke up with Pia and-"

"Please don't tell me you got her pregnant," Henri sighed. "Louis was one thing... Even Prince Harry is one thing. You, on the other hand-"

"Paps, I'm neither Harry nor Uncle Jean. And even if that were the case, marrying prior to the due date would be a possibility, it worked with the Grimaldis. Twice." He frowned. If he thought about it this way, Princess Caroline was probably quite sly. Maybe that explained some things about Andrea.

"Everyone still thought Albert was going to have children and-"

"What did you want to say, honey?" María Teresa interrupted her husband resolutely.

Guillaume was beginning to think maybe this was a bad idea. But as Amedeo was currently telling his parents as well, Guillaume could hardly chicken out. And Astrid would probably appear on their doorstep like a fury within the day anyway. "Remember how, a year or so after Pia and I ended things, you said that you'd be happy about me being in any relationship at all?"

"Yes?" his father responded cautiously.

"Well, I have been seeing someone for a while and it's serious enough by now that we're considering...making it official." Better put the facts out there up front, before they could get any weird ideas.

His mother smiled and made to stand up. "Oh, Guillaume, that's so nice to hear!"

"Mama-"

"Theodora? Guillaume, I'm not sure-"

She frowned when both men started speaking at once. "Don't be silly," she admonished her husband, as if the mere idea was completely ridiculous. "Guillaume?"

He hesitated a moment but there really was no way back now. "I'm not sure how Theodora would take to suddenly be my betrothed," he sighed. "No. I want you to know you won't change my mind about it, not with matters as they stand and not with what happened recently, so don't even try. We're not...talking about a female partner."

Silence followed and Guillaume closed his eyes for just a second, waiting for the the hair keeping the sword of Damocles suspended to snap to fall and end his life. Maybe he was being too melodramatic, but it felt a little like it. But when he opened his eyes again, the silence wasn't quite as stony as he had perceived it; his mother was trying her hardest not to grin, it seemed, and his father looked to the ceiling as if asking the heavens for help.

"You owe me dinner, my love. At the Ritz in Paris. Just you and me," María Teresa nudged her husband into the ribs before turning to smile at her son. "Don't worry, honey. It's okay. You have plenty of brothers."

Guillaume didn't know what to say. "You bet on my _sex life_?"

Henri shrugged. "Just a friendly wager we made when your grandfather abdicated and they invested me. I can't believe your mother remembered."

"I wasn't even twenty back then!" He couldn't believe his parents. Why were they going around placing bets on his sexual orientation when he had not even been sure about that himself?

"Well, honey, your father was dying with nerves and you had never brought a girl home. Don't worry, it's okay. I trust Félix will make an honest woman of that nice girl before long." And here he had been dying a thousand deaths, Guillaume thought in resignation. "Do we know him?"

Right. And then there was that. He started speaking several times but couldn't get himself to really say it.

"Guillaume?" Henri asked.

"Surely, it can't be that bad. I mean...Prince William and Prince Harry are both spoken for, Frederik of Denmark is not getting away from Mary and you're not socialising with the Savoys. And it's not like there's anyone eligible anyway," his mother added.

Well, on his father's matrilineal side, Amedeo was more than only a little Savoy but... "I notice how you did not include Carl Philip on that list." Or the Casiraghis, but he would be damned before bringing them up. And it wasn't as if he had given more than passing thought to Carl Philip ever since...way back when.

"Carl Philip is a very charming young man, dear, and there always is the option to convert," she answered with a smile. "And besides, I don't think it's possible for anyone to break him and William up."

Guillaume really could not let this conversation run away any more from him. "It's Amedeo."

His parents obviously did not trust their ears at first, so he nodded into their confused silence.

"Does Astrid know?" his father asked after almost a minute and with considerably less cheer than he had shown before.

A look at his watch told him it was after ten in the evening already. "I imagine she does by now."

María Teresa sighed and exchanged a glance with her husband. Guillaume wasn't sure what to expect, but he'd expected far more...drama. This discussion was downright sensible. "Tell Amedeo he can come here if he can't stay at home. We'll see this through with you, from here on out."

"But you are the one who has to tell your siblings. And you better do it now, before they hear from anyone else," Henri added and practically sent him from the room.

Guillaume didn't even get the opportunity to thank his parents before he found himself outside their apartment, getting his phone out. He didn't dare call Amedeo yet, for he was probably still being yelled at, so he searched for his next youngest brother's number in his contacts. It was not even eleven, none of his siblings would be asleep yet.

"Is something wrong back home?" his brother greeted him and Guillaume rolled his eyes while making his way towards his own suite.

"No, Félix, everything's fine. Listen, I have just talked with Mama and Paps and that's going to effect you as well."

"Okay," Félix said and he could hear the caution and confusion in his voice. Maybe he should have thought of a way to break it to Félix slowly, after all, the issue of succession would be up to him now.

So he decided a different approach. "Is everything still good down there? Found a new group to run with? Your girlfriend doing all right?"

"I came home just a few minutes ago, I was out for drinks. Get to the point already, will you? I'm tired, have an early class and some alcohol to sleep off."

Guillaume shrugged internally. "I'll have to leave the production of an heir to the throne to you as I'm gay and plan on marrying Amedeo next year. I still am going to inherit from paps, but that's it. So you better hurry up and find out if that nice and suitable girlfriend is willing to have half a dozen children. Questions?" When Félix was a bit drunk, you could hit him with anything and he'd have dealt with it by morning.

"Wha-wha- _what_?! Now wait a moment. _Amedeo_?!"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

A moment of silence, then. "I've been waiting for ten years now for you to get your act together and marry and then you go gay? How can you do this to me?" Félix sounded more frustrated than anything else. "Are you conspiring with Prince William?"

Guillaume laughed. "And what if I am?"

"I hate you, Guillaume. This is not how this is supposed to go."

"I'm sure Princess Beatrice said something similar a couple of years ago." He pinched the bridge of his nose; this was going to be a long evening. "Félix?"

His brother let out a long sigh. "Yes?"

"I'll really need your help." That's what it came down to. The line of succession was secure, that was not the real issue as there were enough cousins who at some point would have children themselves and things would take care of themselves. And then there also was Sébastien. But if Félix wasn't on his side...

"Oh shut up, man. We didn't abandon Louis and no one is going to leave you hanging either. A word of warning would have been nice, though."

"Sorry."

"Yeah whatever. That it? I really need some sleep now." His brother was obviously more drunk than he had thought, but it was good he understood that a leopard couldn't change its spots.

Guillaume hung up after wishing Félix a good night and dialled Louis with a somewhat lighter heart. "Louis? Good news: you're no longer the single black sheep in the family!"

It wasn't until he called his sister that he thought maybe he should have tried this at a family meeting. "Alexandra, stop giggling!"

But she was too breathless and too caught up in her mirth to do so and he only understood her because he had years of practise. "Félix called. He's in complete despair. You boys are so totally blind, I knew years ago!"

"You knew?" That was news to him.

Alexandra was still having fits of giggles. "Sure. Not about Amedeo - and to think I even enabled you at Luisa's party, shame on you - but that you weren't going to provide me with little nieces or nephews was a given. And don't bother calling Sébastien, I already did. He doesn't care, as long as you don't ask for his firstborn. I said Félix was getting the honours."

He rolled his eyes. "Now, aren't you helpful."

"Anytime, big brother. This is payback for what you boys always do to my boyfriends. Say hi to Amedeo for me, tell him I'll volunteer to go wedding dress shopping with him." She giggled again, choked and coughed.

Guillaume patiently waited until she had caught her breath again. "You done laughing?"

"Come on, Guillaume, I always knew you and Theodora couldn't get it on. The question was only who you would woo to finally make an honest man of you, especially as single princes are getting to be a rare breed in Europe these days. I wish you to be happy and we'll manage the succession issue later, you'll just need to nominally adopt a son of your choosing anyway." He could hear the smile in her voice. "Tell Amedeo if any of my brothers are giving him a hard time I'll give him a few pointers. Good night, big brother."

He blinked. "Good night, little sister." The line clicked and went dead. He really should have done this at a family meeting, he thought and prepared to make one last call to Amedeo to see what his parents' verdict was on the whole matter.

~*~

Mercifully, the media echo regarding the announcement of their marriage had not been as loud as it had been when William had revealed the fact that he was in a relationship with a man or when the two of them announced their plans to marry. The novelty had probably worn off by now. Or they simply were not as interesting as William was, which wasn't much of a surprise either.

Whatever the case might be, they were outed to the world now and there was no going back.

Guillaume suspected that Amedeo's nerves were more frayed by the whole goings on than he admitted even to himself and Guillaume had done his best to try arrange their appointments close to home for the first few days following the announcement. Which had the advantage of being around one another when people started to call.

The very first call had been - and that was so predictable he should have seen it coming - from Princess Madeleine, who had hardly been able to speak but for the laughter she was desperately trying to suppress. The only intelligible thing she said before passing the phone to her sister was that she should have known from the start. Victoria relayed congratulations much more in a more mature manner, and she also included those from their parents but said her brother would probably make his own, as he was still on his honeymoon with William.

Crown Princess Mette-Marit was not at all pleased she had not been informed previously, but promised to send a copy of the book she had edited, and Guillaume better make an effort to read it. He promised he would and ordered a Norwegian dictionary, knowing he would be quizzed in hidden references.

And now his phone was ringing again. He couldn't pinpoint the country prefix so his greeting was somewhat cautious, even though his number _should_ be private. "Yes?"

"You should have said something!" It was William, sounding far away and accusatory and amused at the same time. "We'd have sent a little present. Congratulations."

"Thank you. You sound...off." Guillaume had to speak loudly for worry he wouldn't be understood at the other end of the line and he mouthed to Amedeo who it was. Raised eyebrows and a broad grin were his only answer. Guillaume held onto himself not to roll his eyes; so what if he hadn't expected anyone to bother getting back to them and Amedeo had known all along?

"The connection's not the best, we're still honeymooning. But your announcement hit the papers here and we thought we'd give you a call." William sounded awfully cheerful.

He blinked. "Where's that?" he wondered. The holiday location had not been disclosed and with this bad a connection, he had to admit he was curious. William was important, would they really just let him go off to dangerous, unpredictable places?

"Ah..." There was a grin in that voice. "Let's say we're somewhere in South America right now, Atlantic coast. No one really cares about us here. Congratulations from Carl, too, of course." A murmur in the background, which Guillaume recognised as belonging to Carl Philip but couldn't make out individual words. "He says you should stop molesting his cousin."

He threw a look at Amedeo and didn't even need to calculate. "I'm his cousin too," he told William with a frown. "For that matter, the same degree of relation, too."

William laughed. "I think it's a failed attempt at being funny, Carl is still...exhausted." The man sounded smug now and Guillaume decided he really didn't want to know what those two were getting up to behind closed doors.

When he later told Amedeo about it - after some more back and forths with William which ended in them agreeing they'd be seeing each other during the state visit in ten days, as the two of them were to return within the week - his lover could only grin. "Well, I guess you can't say they don't have children for lack of trying."

"Amedeo, really," Guillaume chided softly.

"What?" Amedeo pushed up and came over to step around Guillaume and hug him from behind, hands slipping beneath his suit jacket. "At least we can be sure it wasn't an arranged marriage, with those two."

He snorted at that; as if the head of any family would arrange for a marriage like that to happen. No, this Anglo-Swedish connection between William and Carl Philip was the result of wanting to see one's own happiness through under any and all circumstances and Guillaume found that he couldn't blame them, no matter how selfish it was. Quite the opposite, in fact, because when Amedeo started first nuzzling the soft skin behind his ear and then carefully nipped down his throat as not to leave marks, his thoughts scattered. "We really...really shouldn't do that now."

"You have more than an hour's lull in your appointments," Amedeo murmured and moved one of his hands so it was resting flat against Guillaume's stomach. "And as long as things haven't calmed down, they're unlikely to give me any more representative appointments..."

When he was lying next to Amedeo later, arousal slowly subsiding and being replaced by relaxation while he kept touching his lover's face, Guillaume thought he should have known this would end up in bed. Not that he terribly minded, although sex in the middle of the workday was...peculiar, to say the least.

Suddenly, Amedeo reached up with both hands and took Guillaume's face between them, making him look at him. "Stop thinking about work already." When he frowned down at his lover, Amedeo just grinned and raised his head to kiss him deep enough to make Guillaume momentarily forget that he was supposed to meet the Minister of Economy and Foreign Trade in less than half an hour. "I can tell by now."

"I'm noticing," Guillaume grumbled and shifted so he could lie comfortably next to his fiancé. "William is coming for a state's visit in two weeks. I don't think we can slip you in but I thought you'd like to know."

Amedeo propped himself up on one elbow and looked contemplative. "Is he bringing Carl Philip?"

"That's to be expected, I suppose," Guillaume answered and turned his head towards Amedeo, but staying flat on his back.

"Try to set things right there, will you?" Amedeo looked at him earnestly but reached out to trail his fingers over Guillaume's chest. "William might have promised you his support but it's better if they mean it, too."

Guillaume reached out and linked their fingers, resting them on his chest to discourage Amedeo from starting to distract him again. "You really think this is for the best, keeping in close contact with them, don't you?"

"I do," Amedeo sighed. "I don't know why you won't see it, but they've been through all this already and if they speak up for us... I think they wish they'd had that, too."

"I can see it," Guillaume assured him. "I just don't know if it's necessary to-"

"Promise me you'll speak with them," Amedeo interrupted him with an impatient growl.

Blinking, Guillaume nodded mutely and was rewarded with a smile and a deep kiss before being sent on his way to his meeting.

~*~

It's wasn't common for a monarch to send someone second in line to the throne on a state visit, not even when there was a guarantee this person would end up on the throne one day. State visits were done by heads of state. But the British had turned somewhat eccentric where these things were concerned a hundred years ago, and Guillaume's own wedding announcement had probably only cemented Queen Elizabeth's initial choice. And since Guillaume's father was unavailable, too - after the pneumonia a couple of years ago no one was taking chances with acute bronchitis - it fell to him to talk to William. Carl Philip would have to make do with his mother, as Amedeo wasn't official enough for these kind of functions yet.

Maybe that was for the better, considering the wary look the man was shooting him from a distance already and Carl Philip liked María Teresa, at least. She had sat next to him often enough during visits to Sweden that she presented familiar territory to him.

With the preliminaries - greetings and presentation of hostess gifts - as well as lunch taken care of, Guillaume and William were to get to know each other better as future heads of state before the minister for foreign affairs took over. That this last talk was rather pointless, considering William had no power to do anything just yet, had been graciously ignored.

So they were sitting across from one another over coffee, with plenty of people milling about to keep protocol, and didn't know what to say to one another.

"Your first state visit?" William asked and looked around a little uncomfortably.

Guillaume nodded and drank the last of his coffee. He'd promised Amedeo he'd stop smoking now they were living together, but right now he wished he had something to do with his hands. Thinking of Amedeo's 'alternative ways of stress relief' was no help there, quite to the contrary. "The first one I have to do alone. You?"

"The trip to New Zealand a couple of years ago and my tours with Harry didn't actually feel like one so... Something like that, yes." He still didn't seem? any more relaxed.

Another minute of silence followed, and this was just getting more and more ridiculous. Let the slaves of protocol get palpitations, Guillaume wasn't going to spend the next three days like this and it was time to exert a little authority. "Would you like to walk? I believe my mother and Carl Philip are currently touring the palace, but I don't think we'll run into them."

After a short moment of hesitation William shrugged and accepted. There was a wave of scandalised flurry from everyone else and then they were out of the room, still silent until the other man visible relaxed. "A Habsburg?" he asked. "Are you serious? You really should have told me back then."

Guillaume quirked his mouth; William certainly wasn't the first to ask him that in the last few weeks. And this time it was probably not even Andrea Casiraghi telling tales, the Habsburg family did have a certain reputation, after all, and William's own family was old and distinguished enough to teach their scions all about it. "I assure you, Amedeo is quite normal."

"If I tell that to Carl he's going to voice his doubts about the ordinariness of your person," the other man pointed out and stopped in front of a portrait.

Guillaume had his doubts that Carl Philip had held any thoughts about him being normal in the last decade. The man was just so terribly thick skulled. "How's he taking this anyway?"

William threw him an amused look. "Not as worried for my virtue as he would have been without your Imperial Highness. When am I meeting him?"

"If your grandmother decides to send you, at our wedding." He fell silent, frowned. "Well, I guess you are the logical choice."

"She might give Bea the honours, she needs the practise. Otherwise, we're likely candidates, yes, and we'd come as your private guests, too. Won't you be at this year's AIDS gala?" They were in the Yellow Room now and William was studying the ceiling, rather than looking at him.

" _Which_ one of them?"

"Well, I'm not doing one this year, with the wedding and all there was too much going on already and we don't want to give people any ideas. We accepted Prince Albert's invitation, though, on behalf of Andrea asking us to come. We're currently planning on a three day trip, so we can spend some time with him and Tatiana and have a short break," William explained. That made sense, and Guillaume had received the same invitation and indeed, no one in Monaco would care if he brought Amedeo along. Even though this development was somewhat surprising, he didn't think William had ever been to Monaco prior to his relationship with Carl Philip. "I just hope Andrea has regained his sense of dress and doesn't put weird ideas of appropriateness in Carl's head."

Guillaume shot the other man quizzical look and William shrugged, not answering. There seemed to be some connection between William and his husband and the Grimaldi heir that Guillaume didn't grasp.

"I don't know yet. So far, I didn't lean towards accepting and I'm not sure Amedeo would be up to this," he finally responded to the initial question.

"Why not?"

"We're Catholic, William. You Reformers may be up to stuff like that, but it may be frowned upon around here. And it's in Monaco."

William stopped and turned around to face him. "Guillaume, you're marrying another man. Your country has a law granting same-sex marriages. I don't think they'll mind if you take your fiancé...out for a spin! And to Monaco no less, I doubt you'll find anywhere more informal, whatever else you might say."

Studying his counterpart for a while, Guillaume finally sighed and nodded. "We'll think about it."

"Good." The other man smiled. "We'll see you there, then."

Later, when they had been joined by Guillaume's mother and Carl Philip again and were waiting for dinner to be served, Guillaume decided it was finally time to get a few things out of the way. "Do you think you will one day find it in your heart to forgive me?" he asked as he stepped up to Carl Philip, who flinched upon hearing his voice and Guillaume had to hold on to all of his self-control not to purse his lips in disapproval. "I won't bite."

"Sorry, it's...automatic," the other man answered lamely and tried to smile.

"I take that as a no?" Better to know about it now before they started pussyfooting around it for years to come. Even though Amedeo would not be happy.

Carl Philip raised his eyes and studied him openly for a moment. "I don't mean to insult you."

Guillaume took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm trying very hard not to take it as one, you're not really making it easy, though."

"Yes, I can...imagine." His eyes roamed around the room until they settled on William, just to return to the man across from him. "I suppose we'll bee seeing more from each other from now on."

"Will we?" Guillaume raised both eyebrows. That was news to him, although considering there only were two gay princely couples (at least in Europe) right now, the idea was feasible. On the other hand, the British royal family wasn't very good at keeping in contact with thei continental counterparts. "There's always ways and means to prevent that."

Carl Philip shrugged, still looking somewhat uncomfortable, but with the last sentence a frown started spreading on his face. "No, Guillaume, there's not. And even if there were, after everything... After we got together, and after it got official too, Wills decided it might be a good idea for him to catch up with the continental parts of the family again. We Scandinavians have always been good friends, with us all being close in age and distance, relatively speaking at least. Everyone else, well, you know how it is with our parents." He nodded at Guillaume's mother, who was having an amiable chat with William it seemed. "Wills decided to take advantage of that. We're all cousins of one degree or other, after all."

Nodding thoughtfully, Guillaume mentally followed his own family's connections to the Bernadottes and the Windsors. "That's why you're going to Monaco in two weeks?"

If Guillaume knowing this surprised Carl Philip, he didn't let on to it, but smiled. "The Grimaldis are special, you know that. We're related to them, in some way - you and me probably closer than Wills - which hasn't stopped people from snubbing them. Neither Wills nor me would care about Albert, but we're friends with Andrea so we're trying to rein that in a little as it's not helping him. Your family and mine have tried before, it's time everyone else understood that, too."

"And Monaco is more a place for socialites than royalty," Guillaume concluded. And despite those bad contacts of the British with their continental cousins, William was probably the one in a position to do something about it. And Carl Philip provided the necessary means, to the Grimaldis as well as the continentals. Guillaume himself had been there at Prince Albert's crowning - the exact reason for the football match that day he still wasn't sure of - but there had not been a lot of other royalty around, and certainly no heirs - other than Victoria and himself - or heads of state.

The other man shrugged, but nodded. "Maybe we can change that. For the sake of a friend?"

"What about my question?" Guillaume asked when the notice about dinner finally came, mostly to change the topic, and they were making their way towards the small dining room. Small being a euphemism, of course.

Carl Philip let out a breath and closed his eyes briefly, as if it cost him an effort equivalent of climbing the Mount Everest. "Let's say I'll sleep more peaceful when I know you're married off and Amedeo has to deal with you."

"You're close to him?" That surprised him, Amedeo had never said a word, so he had assumed... Especially as he had complained so often and so loudly about the two idiots.

"Even I do occasionally meet the extended family," Carl Philip said with a smile before changing the topic. "I've been asking your mother about this, but she wasn't sure. Do you think it's possible to see the _The Family of Man_ exhibition somewhere? I'd really give something to see it and it was what Wills used to lure me into this in the first place. Well, one of the things," he added with a grin and Guillaume _really_ didn't want to know.

It didn't come as a surprise that Carl Philip had not come eagerly, but maybe this was his way to starting to patch things up between them, after all. If they really were to see each other more often... A possible meeting with Andrea Casiraghi in two weeks did leave Guillaume with something of a squeezy feeling in his stomach, though.

~*~

Guillaume was not entirely convinced coming to Monaco had been a good idea. Truth was, no one there cared if he and Amedeo were married yet or not, or that they were two men, for that matter. All the little details that one could thoroughly scandalise a normal royal party with were switched off here, in the small Mediterranean principality ruled by the Grimaldi family. He wasn't sure if he liked this.

Dinner had been pleasant, although they had been seated with people Guillaume couldn't quite place, despite seeming somehow familiar. It could probably be anyone, socialites, actors or even Formula One pilots with their wives, so maybe he should not even bother. He had seen Theodora at one of the other tables, William and Carl Philip of course, Prince Albert's sisters and their children as well as a few other royals, some from morganatic marriages, he'd never exchanged more than two words with. There simply was no way to know everyone, and even in a world as small as the royal circles, it was possible to just lose sight of someone. Or stay out of people's ways intentionally.

After dinner there had been mingling and talking and the silent auction, where he won a painting of a Provenceal lavender field that his parents would receive as a wedding anniversary present in February. In the meantime there was polite but inconsequential small talk between the guests until after the auction, when the after-party party started. This was the same as the actual party, except that the press had been asked to leave (with initial police presence and unless you were royalty, the Monegasque police was not the most polite one in the world) and consequently now there was more alcohol and a lot more less consequential small talk and even more physical contact among the guests. At least with no press present and everyone being too high up the social latter to sell out, there was no risk of anyone showing up in a newspaper tomorrow with a new scandal.

One had to leave it to the Grimaldis, they did manage to keep their guests' scandals under wraps, if not their own.

His feeling of premonition was confirmed when he looked around after Amedeo had excused himself and he saw Andrea Casiraghi take William's head between his hands and kiss him smack on the lips. With Carl Philip standing right beside the two of them, doing nothing.

Almost choking on his wine, Guillaume knew he gaped as Andrea laughed, leaned in and placed an affectionate kiss on Carl Philip's cheek before leaving the couple to their own devices and sauntering over. "I keep hearing you're working yourself into everyone's good graces."

"What was _that_?"

Andrea turned around to look at the two men he left behind, who were now joined by someone whose face Guillaume couldn't see, and smiled fondly. "You don't want to know. When's my turn?"

Guillaume looked up sharply. "Excuse me?" There was still hope he might have misheard, and Andrea Casiraghi was not currently asking permission to kiss him.

"For you to work your way into my good graces," the other man elaborated patiently.

"With that performance you just-," he broke off, pinched the bridge of his nose. This was definitely not the way to go. He might not have to be friends with Andrea, but getting on his bad side when Guillaume was essentially his guest was probably a bad idea.

Andrea just looked at him mildly, but with amusement showing around his eyes. "That had nothing to do with you. For the moment, at least. Where's your Habsburg? You did bring him, didn't you? I know you're Catholic, but you can't have your head stuck that far up your own arse."

Guillaume blinked, uncertain if he should be scandalised or simply turn around and leave, only to decide to ignore the jibe completely for the sake of peace. "He has a name, you know?" he sighed. "What does your girlfriend say about you going around kissing other people's husbands? For that matter, why did Carl Philip just stand by?"

"Amedeo's still a Habsburg and he knows that well enough, considering he keeps hearing it left and right from his relatives already. It's like we'll never be rid of _il Malizia_ 's famous dress-up either." Andrea stopped a waiter, liberated him of two glasses of wine and handed one to Guillaume with another smile. "Everyone's on your side, don't worry. I'm just teasing. As for Wills and Carl, that was-"

"There's an awful lot of kissing happening right now. Oh, hi Andrea. Why is your girlfriend running around kissing everyone with even homeopathic doses of noble blood in their veins?" Amedeo joined them, looking rightly confused and with an umbrella drink in one hand. "That was weird. And I don't think she's only targeting the men."

Andrea smirked. "It's a misunderstanding as much as a joke, I fear. Someone said something about missing Harry, William's brother, Carl misunderstood, saying kissing Harry was something he wanted to put far out of his mind. Tatiana wandered by, saying I was a great kisser - and I'm just repeating here, mind you - and it was time to determine that for the rest of the present royals. I take it she got to you?"

Amedeo nodded, while Guillaume could only shake his head in disbelief, if not horror. He knew Tatiana Santo Domingo too well not to feel that, she was, after all, a scary woman. "When I was waiting for my drink. I think she mistook me for someone else though, because she apologised after letting me go?"

"I think she's leaving the gay ones to me," Andrea mused with an apologetic shrug.

"Well, it's not like I haven't had girlfriends...unofficial ones," Amedeo murmured.

Guillaume didn't know where to start, turned to his fiancé first, "You never-," broke off and turned towards Andrea, "Is that why you- You two are breaking my brain." The other men laughed and Amedeo wound his free arm around his waist, pulling him close.

"Wills said he wouldn't know to compare, not having kissed another man - at least he got settled with Carl, that's a definite plus for him. Anyway, I decided to take matters into my own hands." Andrea grinned. "Care to take a turn?" Guillaume shot him what he hoped was a glance of obliteration and his grin turned only wider.

Amedeo winked, though. "I think we'll pass."

"Thought so. Your loss, though. Well, I'll take your word for this one here, Amedeo," Andrea said and gestured at Guillaume. "That makes Carl, William, Guillaume, you I suppose, and it seems Carl can vouch for Harry as well, although I don't think I want to know how that came to pass. I'll have to go ask Tatiana about the rest." He looked thoughtful for a moment, surveying the crowd. "If I don't catch you later, I'll see you at your wedding. Guillaume."

Guillaume nodded, understanding that this was, in all likelihood, just the start of a long line of meetings.

Late that night in their hotel room, sleep was hard to come by. Guillaume had given up after an hour's tossing and turning with Amedeo sleeping peacefully at his side. They had come back a little drunk, but that seemed to have worn off for him already, while his lover was still producing the occasional snore that he only made when he wasn't sober. It made Guillaume smile that he knew something like this without having to consciously think about it.

He had been sitting upright in bed, contemplating the choices he'd made in his life, when Amedeo twitched in his sleep, his legs kicking. Guillaume brought his own limbs out of the way, although not quick enough to prevent one of Amedeo's feet connecting with his left shin. He sighed and bent over, buried one hand in Amedeo's hair and made soothing sounds, whispering to him. Nightmares weren't frequent, but when they did happen they caused him to lash out and Guillaume had spent a week with a considerable bruise on his hip the first time he was there to witness it, so he had developed certain counter methods. The interesting part was that Amedeo didn't remember any of it, ever; neither after waking up normally nor after being woken up right out of the dream.

Once Amedeo had calmed down, Guillaume continued to outline the contours of his face in the illumination of the night light. Amedeo had not been one of those choices; he had been a decision, their relationship something Guillaume had only dared to imagine in his wildest dreams for a long time. That might sound just a little desperate. There had been relationships before, admittedly most of them short lived, at Le Rosey (albeit, those had been attempts with girls) as well as in England, and he had not been lying when he told William that things had been a bit wild at Sandhurst for a while. Being with someone for a longer time wasn't easy, though, and Guillaume was beyond happy they had managed to overcome the fact of having practically grown up together that had plagued them in the beginning and which was as much curse as blessing.

Basically alienating, although unintentional at the time, Carl Philip and keeping Andrea at a distance quite intentionally, more than a decade ago had been choices. The latter had seemed correct at the time, even though it was now coming to haunt him, and the former...had been a harmless little transgression...that was equally coming to haunt him, so whatever. He still wasn't all that sure about making up with Andrea, especially after the evening's events, but Amedeo had just laughed it off and kissed him quiet. Obviously, his lover didn't share his concerns regarding the Grimaldi heir, but Guillaume didn't seem to be able to let go of them. But then, Amedeo had all these weird notions about connecting and getting involved in other people's private lives and he just wasn't sure that was the right way to go.

Andrea had taken matters surprisingly laid back and said his good behaviour had earned him an invite to the Prince's Palace the next day for lunch. Guillaume had only accepted reluctantly, after a rather painful nudge in the ribs from Amedeo, which had only made the other man's grin widen even more and assure him they wouldn't be alone, that William and Carl Philip would attend as well. He wasn't sure if that should really make him less worried.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your brain," Amedeo murmured sleepily and pulled Guillaume down to lie next to him again. "What's got you thinking?"

There was no reason to let Amedeo in on his thoughts regarding all of this, so decided to change the subject. "Your girlfriends," he answered, not completely truthfully but there had been some thinking about those, too.

His lover frowned, obviously not having slept all the alcohol off yet. "Why?"

"Well, you've never said anything about them, that's got me curious." Guillaume had done his own share of experimentation, but he didn't think he would ever call any of them girlfriends. And then there had been Pia, but Amedeo knew as well as he himself that it had been an arrangement for propriety's sake and nothing more.

Amedeo sighed - his breath still smelling of alcohol indeed - and reached out, curling one hand around Guillaume's face so his fingers rested at the nape of his neck, the root of his hand against his cheek. "What is it you're asking?"

"You just-"

"Guillaume, you do know there's no reason for me to justify myself to you, right? It's not a secret that I've dated girls, only because the public was never aware of it. Or my mother. Just because I chose you doesn't mean my existence has always revolved around you and you know that. We're two people, I'm not your-" He didn't get to finish the sentence because Guillaume leaned in and kissed him, licking his lips open and coaxing his tongue out to play.

They kissed for a while and Guillaume gradually felt his lover waken up, in the literal as well as the figurative sense. "I don't need justification," he finally said, leaning forward and kissing Amedeo lightly on the lips again. "You just...surprised me in a situation when things were confusing enough already."

Amedeo shook his head and shifted, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of Guillaume's shorts and teasing along the seam. "Relax, love, we're in the Mediterranean, among friends." He smirked. "You're dating a Habsburg, you should get used to family antics."

"Oh, come here you." Guillaume collected momentum and rolled them around, pinning the other man beneath him, one hand taking some of his weight so he would not be crushing his lover. They chuckled, kissed, let their hands roam.

Amedeo tangled both hands into his hair and pulled him down for kissing, rolled them again so they were comfortably lying side by side once more. "Did we bring lube?" he asked lazily but there was a glint in his eyes and Guillaume knew that neither of them would be well rested for lunch the next day. But let the others speculate, it wasn't like Guillaume cared.

"Stupid question," he answered and reached for the night stand, produced the bottle. Of course they had brought lube. In fact, they'd had lube even before they'd been sleeping with one another, which had made things so much easier when they finally _had_ gone down that road.

Teasing Amedeo was way too much fun, though. He had a sweet spot on his hip that Guillaume had discovered rather early on and used it to drive his lover to distraction. His fingers coated with lube he reached down, but flicked his other hand over _that_ spot in a certain way and used the moment to kiss Amedeo again when he gasped. His lover was responsive and they quickly found their rhythm. This had turned out to be a good day after all. And an even better night.

They only managed to roll out of bed the next day because they were expected and the lack of sleep was glaringly obvious when Guillaume looked into the mirror. Amedeo didn't look any better, the whites of his eyes were blood-shot and Guillaume wouldn't have been surprised if he was still a little drunk. "Still got residual blood in your alcohol?" he asked when his lover opened the sliding door to the shower, looking scruffy and unshaven. The shower _could_ have accommodated both of them, but they would never get anywhere if they started sharing now and anyway, showers were slippery. It wouldn't do for them to fall now and break their necks, just to be found in unambiguously ambiguous circumstances.

Even though that would make for a splendid headline.

"I wasn't that drunk," Amedeo stated calmly. "Could still...perform, couldn't I?"

Guillaume threw him a look, but Amedeo just grinned and closed the door again.

Their names were checked by sentries at the gates and they were taken across the courtyard and accompanied into the Prince's Palace, up several flights of stairs and through corridors lined a multitude of doors. A 12th century fortress that had been added to and rebuilt completely more than once in the last seven hundred years was not easy to navigate. Finally, they were told to go down a long hallway, since they were expected and Monsieur Andrea didn't like for his private guests to be announced like state guests.

Doors were standing open, showing rooms with large window fronts facing the inside courtyard and which were therefore not visible from the front side. There was no door to the room where they obviously were expected to meet the others, but natural illumination spilled into the hall from there. Just before they could enter Amedeo stretched out his arm and held Guillaume back.

From inside, they could hear Carl Philip talking in German. "Wills tried to bribe me into going to Luxembourg with sex," he said in a tone that was a weird mixture of matter-of-fact, complaint and petulance.

Guillaume looked at Amedeo in alarm, but his lover was just biting his lower lip, grinning and obviously trying to keep from getting noticed.

Andrea's voice sounded next, sympathetic and brimming with suppressed laughter. "Well, did it work?"

"Yes," Carl Philip sighed and it sounded just a little over the top.

"Well, obviously your man's doing something right." The third voice belonged to Tatiana and it sounded as if she was just stating the obvious.

Next to him, Amedeo was shaking with silent laughter, one hand pressed to his mouth and quite clearly in danger of choking. Guillaume just rolled his eyes and gave him a very pointed look until his lover had quieted down a little, asking himself in the meantime where the man in question might be, as they would hardly discuss one couple's sex life in front of all parties present. Well, at least he hoped so, else this meeting would be very strenuous, to say the least.

"Sounds like fun," Amedeo whispered, "can we do that too, sometime? You know, I could push you to the floor..."

Guillaume shook his head and gave his lover a gentle shove to get him moving.

They entered a room encased by glass on three sides and suffused with the pale winter sunshine. One look at the others showed both Andrea and Carl Philip - William being nowhere in sight - considerably worse for wear, dark circles beneath their eyes, skin pale and drawn and if this hadn't been an informal gathering, everyone would have been way underdressed in sweatpants and t-shirts. Now he was glad Amedeo had convinced him to opt for jeans - brought along because Amedeo had been rummaging in his closet - instead of the suit from last night, which had a slight liquor-odour anyway.

The only one looking perky and rested was Tatiana.

"Ah, you're here!" Andrea called, stating the obvious from the sofa he and his girlfriend were half-sitting, half-lying on. Although Tatiana was considerably more vertical than Andrea. "Sorry I'm not getting up, but I'm glad I made it here. Long night."

"I bet," Amedeo grinned and flung himself onto the empty couch and proceeded to adopt the same stance that Andrea expressed. Maybe it was the low seating combined with their height, as Carl Philip managed to sit somewhat straighter, without the slouch.

"Just be glad you were gone before they started with the drinking games," Carl Philip muttered, grimacing at the memory. "When were we in bed? Six?"

"Together?" Amedeo asked with raised eyebrows and Guillaume nudged him into the ribs, only to see Carl Philip and Andrea exchanging a meaningful glance. Weird. "What? We're all adults here, don't act as if these things don't happen. The question is if that much alcohol leaves you- Ouch. That hurt."

"It was supposed to hurt," William's voice sounded from above them where he towered after clouting Amedeo over the head. He didn't look any better than the other two, even though he was glaring at Amedeo. "No one's playing with my husband without my consent. I told you, he's mine."

"Wills, really," Carl Philip admonished, but his lips were twitching.

"Possessive much, eh?" Tatiana smiled into her glass and Guillaume hoped that the golden liquid inside was grape juice and not wine. Else he would have to admire her stamina.

"Took four years to get us here, I have a right to be possessive. Besides, you're one to talk, my dear." William seated himself next to Carl Philip, kissed him quickly next to one ear and reached for his hand, clasping it into his just like Amedeo was holding Guillaume's. But he didn't feel comfortable doing this in front of others, unlike William and Carl Philip seemed to. It was almost enough to be envious.

"I've been known to share." She smiled widely and put her glass down and he was sure he didn't exactly want to know what that was about. Whatever it might be, he suspected it wasn't something he wanted a vivid imagination of. Tatiana kissed her boyfriend quickly, yet lingeringly on the mouth before getting up to make her way to the door. "I'll go ask if they have to catch the fish first. You boys have fun."

"Fish?" Guillaume echoed and really didn't know if he could stomach that now.

Andrea looked a little green as well. "We decided on a decent hangover breakfast instead of lunch. Pickled herring, a complete fry up, the works. Coffee. Lots of coffee and aspirin. And you were gone at," he stopped and frowned at Carl Philip, "five-ish, I think. Maybe half-past, I lost track of time after Pierre tried to up his points in the competition with Theodora's help." He shook his head. "And I don't even want to _know_ what you were getting up to after you left. Especially seeing as I wasn't invited. We were in bed at seven. Our dear Greco-Danish princess had a flight out at 6.30 this morning."

Amedeo quickly took up a discussion with Carl Philip about his racing career, a choice Guillaume could not understand to this day; while William and Andrea, in between complaining of their headaches, seemed to seemed to be discussing some future event. Tatiana returned several minutes later, saying food would be another half hour or so, and after surveying the five of them, settled down next to Guillaume. It was one of the moments he wished he still smoked to deaden the nervousness.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "You can talk, I know that. All those student functions, you were speaking loud and clear."

"My mother taught me how," he responded, trying to remain courteous, although he had some difficulty doing so. Tatiana was a presence, and that was the only word he could possibly use to describe her, and certainly not like one imagined royal girlfriends to be. When he had known her back at Le Rosey, where the student body was so small everyone basically knew each other, it had been the same, this was not a new development since meeting Andrea.

She smiled and patted his knee in a sisterly fashion and wasn't that disturbing? "That's good to know. You don't seem to be enjoying our little gathering overly much."

"Well do _you_ know how I fit in with this lot?" he asked and threw a somewhat critical gaze around. Carl Philip had pulled his and William's joined hands into his lap, caressing idly, but else was still discussing tires and traction with Amedeo, while Andrea had switched to complaining, it seemed something with the organisation of that event had gone haywire.

"You are the Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg," Tatiana answered as if that should make everything clear and reached for her glass again.

Guillaume raised one eyebrow. "You don't say?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" she gasped mockingly.

"I am in awe at how you managed to uncover my secret identity. I also am gay, in case that slipped your notice." He was still drunk, after all. If his mother ever heard him speak to a woman that way there would be hell to pay.

But she just smiled. "I know you have a big family, Guillaume, but there's times when you need your peer group."

He blinked slowly. "I seem to have heard that speech before."

"Have you? How does it end?"

"I think the gist is that we heirs need to stick together and that William is seeking to re-establish contact with his continental relatives... of which I am one, I guess."

"Everyone is related one way or other with Wills," she argued and made a throwaway gesture. "Even Andrea, and that split goes so far back in time that I don't think anyone still believes it actually happened. Truth is, you do need to stick together, but I think it goes a bit further than that."

"What do you mean?"

"You, William, Andrea, sure you're all heirs to a throne and that's what you have in common. But Carl, Pierre, Charlotte, William's brother, your siblings - even though with a ten year age gap that's a whole other cohort for two or three of them - and Amedeo here too, are all young royals who have decided to be working that job, too, at least for some of the time. Most of them could simply drop the title, adopt a fitting last name and live their lives out."

Guillaume frowned. "There's not a two-class society among nobility."

The look she threw him was not to be called benevolent. "No, it's multi-facetted, actually. There's the high nobility, the minor nobility, the royal families, the technically destitute; the ones who happily marry commoners and those who disown their offspring upon a morganatic marriage and so on. And quite a lot of you don't even like one another. I'm not saying it's all bad, the situation of a noble in a country where nobility is merely denoted by the last name anymore certainly isn't comparable to that of someone first or second in line to an actual crown and head of state position."

"Then what _are_ you saying?" She had confused him. Maybe she was still drunk as well and just wasn't looking like it?

"I'm saying no matter how big your family is, it's always better to have someone outside of it to turn to when it concerns matters you wouldn't actually want to discuss with them. That's what a peer group close in age is useful for; they know what's going on behind the scenes without much explanation and they can have your back. It also provides you with a sofa to crash on if you need it." She downed what was left in her glass and looked at him expectantly.

"I give up, I have no idea what you're trying to tell me." That woman was confusing.

Tatiana sighed heavily. "You're here because you were invited and because with you in the situation you are in, no one feels like tiptoeing around you any longer. Also, you are part of a grand scheme of knitting the European royal houses closer together...even including the descendants of pirates." That last was certainly a jibe at the fact that most of the European nobility still did not consider the Grimaldis as equal, despite the fact that ruled in more than just image.

"So why us?"

"In a way, you're the weakest link. You're gay, you're bound to need the support. You have Wills and Carl, who did some of the work for you already and who can give you a few pointers, but essentially it's you against the traditionalists." She shrugged. "Take it or leave it. But consider that you owe Andrea a favour or two."

A quick glance at Amedeo showed his lover still in conversation with Carl Philip and not likely to listen in. "You know about that?"

"I know about a lot of things." She smiled enigmatically and started to say something else when the food arrived and she vacated her place to sit next to Andrea again, trailing one hand through his hair as she sat down. They exchanged a few words, Andrea kissed her on the lips and they turned towards the food, Tatiana making straight for a small bowl of mixed pickles and a pot of coffee.

"Hey," Amedeo said and put a hand on Guillaume's thigh. "Food's here."

"Yeah," he opted for a light tone and a smile, "let's eat. But I'm not up to pickled herring."

His lover grinned and handed him a plate with scrambled eggs, along with a fork.

One day, Guillaume realised, these men - Andrea and William - sitting with him here would be heads of state along with him, wielding their constitutionally limited power, while Carl Philip would be the car-crazy prince consort, and Tatiana would maybe be the most scary Princess in all of Europe. Those were truly disturbing prospects. Consequently it was just right, he mused, that he had the one sane prince on the continent at his side.

And he sure hoped that the kiss he'd seen Andrea and Carl Philip exchange earlier was still part of last night's contest, because if it wasn't, Guillaume really didn't want to know.

~*~

December was always a busy time, even if Guillaume wasn't spending the first few days of it abroad and hung over. He definitely was getting old if a party like that managed to throw him off for days.

The rest of the month belonged to official appointments to wrap up the year, until a few days before Christmas when things started to slow down. The Grand Duke would still have to deliver his Christmas speech, but other than that the Grand Ducal Family was free to pursue their own agendas. With all of his siblings away at school or working the rest of the year, this was the only time for Guillaume when he really got to see all of them except for the annual official photo ops.

This year, however, he somehow wished the holidays were over already. Amedeo would be with him again, instead of stuck at Philippe's because his mother wouldn't allow him home and she would raise hue and cry over her son spending Christmas with his male fiancé , his siblings would have rolled their eyes and shaken their heads already and things would be back to normal. Or what passed for normal these days, with a rather unconventional wedding on the horizon.

Instead, he was sitting in his apartment two nights before Christmas Eve over a set of interview questions that had been mailed to the Grand Ducal Palace in preparation. The actual interview would be conducted between Christmas and New Year's, but no one wanted to be faced with any surprises, as this was to be about Guillaume and Amedeo, publicly appearing for questions. He didn't have to do this now, of course, but he wasn't willing to face his siblings at the moment.

Alexandra had arrived early in the morning, hugged him tight but not managed much aside from giggles. It had been better after that, lunch had been almost civilised and she had talked more about herself than about Amedeo and him. Louis and Tessy, who had already come home from Florida several days ago, had not batted an eyelash from the beginning; Louis probably figuring knocking up your girlfriend was worse than being gay and Tessy, like Alexandra, saying she had always known (but with considerably less schadenfreude). Sébastien wasn't due until tomorrow.

Which left Félix.

His brother had arrived late that afternoon, said hello to their parents but left again soon after, on the pretence of running errands. Guillaume had the unmistakable feeling that he was the reason for his brother leaving Berg Castle again so soon and how awful was that? It left Guillaume unable to concentrate on his work, but pondering it didn't help. He could do nothing but wait and see and make it clear to Félix that the situation would not change.

The knock at his door wasn't entirely unexpected. Noah and Gabriel always wanted to say good night and their parents tended to indulge them. María Teresa had tried pointing out to them that doing this on a regular basis would lead to them growing up spoiled beyond belief, but so far the warnings had fallen on deaf ears.

He had not, however, expected Félix to be standing in front of his door, raising two obviously well chilled sixpacks of beer. Duvel.

"We have to talk," Félix stated and made one step into his apartment, making Guillaume sidestep a little, and walked past him. "I hope you have space in your fridge."

Belgian beer. Guillaume blinked. He was going to kill the little bastard.

"Félix?" he called after his little brother in a tone that clearly demanded an explanation. Instead, said brother just sauntered out of the kitchen that had been installed when Guillaume moved into this suite of rooms, two bottles in hand motioned towards the living room.

Guillaume stood at the door for another few moment and realised his brother had now fully stepped out of his shadow and would not be as pliable anymore as he had still been a couple of years ago. Before going to Italy. With a sigh, he let the door fall shut and followed his little brother, who by now had opened both bottles and settled down in the easy chair, leaving Guillaume with the couch or the armchair. Sceptically, he sat down on the sofa, took up the bottle and toasted with Félix, who held his out expectantly.

"So Rumpelstiltskin," he started and studied him openly, "tell me how to spin straw to gold."

Guillaume took a sip of his beer. "You know my name, Félix. All four of them. That makes the exercise somewhat futile, don't you think?"

"I don't know. It might be worth it, watching you tear yourself apart," Félix answered with a smile and emptied half the bottle in two deep swallows.

Guillaume threw his a scathing look and started picking at the label of his bottle. "Not so much has changed, you know? You've always been my heir, so it's not like your status has deviated any from what it's always been."

"Except that I could always count on moving steadily backwards once you started to produce your own children. And now you want mine, to groom as your successors. Do you think that's fair, Guillaume?" Félix emptied the first bottle and took it into the kitchen, just to reappear with a second and settle down again. "Drink up. We have things to discuss I'm not having out with you when either of us is entirely sober."

"I'm not any more fond of birthduty than you are, maybe even less, but what choice do we have? It's not like I can randomly impregnate girls...even if I were that way inclined." He drank. Of course, he knew what Félix wanted to talk about and he wasn't particularly keen on it, but it seemed it had to be.

"No, you're the wrong brother for that," Félix sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know you've never been in the position, but when you're just the spare heir your outlook on life seems less...constricted. And now you're making that all undone and...it doesn't seem right, you know? Ah fuck, Paps won't want to make _me_ want to succeed, will he?"

Guillaume laughed, almost choking in the last of his beer. "No. Don't worry, I'll succeed and play my part. Should the time come when it would be your turn, you can simply refuse and delegate to your son. Or daughter, changing the house law is long overdue anyway."

It was obvious that Félix was still uneasy with this arrangement, but he knew there was nothing he could do. When you were born into a ruling family, a part of your fate was already sealed before you had taken your first breath.

They each finished their second beer in somewhat more companionable silence. It was when he had brought the third round that Félix finally came out with what was really bothering him. " _Amedeo_? Seriously, Guillaume, have you gone completely insane? Even leaving aside the fact that he's our cousin-"

"- _second_ cousin," Guillaume interrupted him. That was important. A detail but an extremely important one.

Félix looked at him a little bewildered but let it slide. "Our _second_ cousin then, we practically grew up together. He could be our brother!" And the fact that Amedeo was Louis' age didn't help either, Guillaume was aware of that.

He sighed. "I know that, Félix, and believe me when I say we've not taken this lightly or made it easy on ourselves. Do you think we just up and hopped into bed with one another?"

His brother shuddered and held up both hands, the one holding the beer waving precariously. "Don't you dare say it! I don't even want to imagine that. You. Him. In that- Never. Do what you want to, but lock the bloody door." He paused to take another large swallow of the Duvel. "How did Mama and Paps take it?"

"Believe it or not, they bet on it. Fourteen years ago."

Félix blinked. "On you and Amedeo?"

But Guillaume just snorted. "Me being gay. Can you believe it?"

"Well, we _are_ talking about our parents," Félix shrugged and seemed to take this entirely better than he had. "So you and Amedeo. Carl Philip and William. Anyone else I should know about? Statistically there have to be a few more among the nobility."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know. It's not like we have regular meetings or something." Except they did, it seemed, but maybe he should break that to Félix slowly and on another day, when they each didn't have almost three strong ales sloshing around in their stomachs and three more to go.

"Sure. Whatever you say." Félix said it in a tone that clearly stated that he didn't believe a word his older brother said. "But man, Amedeo of all people!" He finished the third bottle and regarded it thoughtfully. A frown spread slowly on his face and he looked up. "Astrid was furious, wasn't she? Probably thinks you've despoiled her precious son."

"I don't think Amedeo needed much despoiling," Guillaume sighed and set the empty bottle down on the table. Before he did any more drinking, there was another biological imperative he'd need to follow. "She's been refusing to even see him ever since he told her and has forbidden his siblings to go see him as well. Not that they're listening, but the sentiment alone is...cruel." Amedeo was trying to put up a brave front but it definitely got to him. "He's at Philippe's now, though. You know that he's usually-"

"Living here?" Félix raised one eyebrow but nodded. "Mama has said as much on the phone. How's that going, from long distance to being together all the time?"

Guillaume snorted, remembering the discussion they'd had if it was logical to throw in their books together or keep them separate. "We've started fighting more often. I'll take it over not seeing him for months at a time any day."

His brother nodded. "Yeah, I can see that." He got up and made his way to the bathroom. Coming back a few minutes later, not walking quite straight but just straight enough, he looked extremely satisfied. "Well, at least you don't buy any of that floral gunk now that girls like so much. I tell you, this little countess I've met... Hot, but her bathroom is a nightmare in pink and floral patterns."

Guillaume threw him a look while getting up and walking towards the door himself. "We're gay, brother dear, not flaming."

When he returned, Félix had started on the second six pack and a full but opened bottle was waiting for him on the table. He looked at it for a little while and contemplated if he really wanted to do that. But he'd have to sleep the alcohol off anyway, so it probably didn't matter much. "How drunk do you want to get tonight?"

"Preferably drunk enough to stop pondering if it was an early sign that Amedeo used to stuff my pants full of sand while squealing in delight when we were children. While I was wearing them, mind you. You were holding me so I couldn't get away." His brother threw him a dark look. "Early indicator, was it?"

Guillaume gave a smile. "No, that was simply because at that time I was still bigger than you and loved letting you know it. And having Amedeo and Maria Laura around was much better than my stupid younger brothers."

Félix threw one of the crown caps at him, which he managed to duck, albeit barely. It did make him overbalance and fall off the couch though, and when he had picked himself up again his little brother was grinning as if he'd reached his goal exactly. Oh, he would pay for that. There was still a full bottle of vodka in his freezer from his last visit to Saint Petersburg. They'd see who was still vertical after that one.

Guillaume still felt a bit drunk when Amedeo came home, and wasn't it nice that it was home to both of them now, on the 26th. Mercifully, he didn't comment on Guillaume's obvious state and even pitched his voice low. "Things between you and Félix all good?"

Guillaume threw him a look. "You knew?"

Amedeo smiled, leaned over and kissed the curve of his jaw, his cheek, his mouth. "I've known you practically since I can remember, love, if you want to hide something from me, you need to put more effort into it. What did he say?"

"He brought two six packs of Duvel," he responded and dropped back into the cushions. It was nice to be together like this. Good to be almost back to normal. "And we depleted that Russian vodka. I don't remember a lot."

Amedeo made a sound that might have been assent or displeasure and scooted closer, threaded one hand into his hair and kissed him deeper, tongue licking and teasing and Guillaume gladly responded in kind. If only... "I really am not sure I'm up to that."

His lover frowned at him and slowly but determinedly worked his hand beneath the layers of Guillaume's clothing. "Your body should have metabolised all that alcohol by now, no matter how drunk you were."

"Yes," he said and captured Amedeo's mouth once more, playfully nibbling on his lower lip. "But I'm really beat. And besides, what happens if someone comes in?"

"Well," Amedeo answered and by now his hand had found the button of Guillaume's trousers, "that'll teach them at least not to come in unannounced."

As if on cue, somewhere in the apartment a door snicked open and Alexandra's voice sounded; luckily she obviously knew better than to come and check on them. "Guillaume, Mama says to come down for coffee and cake so interrupt your dirty games and join us!"

The door slammed shut again and Amedeo dropped his head to Guillaume's shoulder, who could only pat his hair reassuringly. "Don't worry, we have all night," he said and placed a kiss on top of Amedeo's head. At least the man was used to having a whole horde of siblings around and that, at least, would not faze him.

Inability to... perform though was a whole other matter and Guillaume suspected he wouldn't see another bottle of Duvel, let alone vodka, for quite a while.

~*~

Guillaume didn't know what time it was when Amedeo's phone jarred them from sleep and he only heard his lover grope around for it, dislodging his watch from the night stand. Being this far up in the succession - and as long as Philippe's children were still minors and he himself unmarried, that was true for Amedeo on the Belgian side as well - meant they didn't get to turn their phones off at night, they needed to be available in an emergency. Guillaume wanted to reach out to reassure him, but refrained as that would only worsen the worry he had to be feeling anyway.

"Hello?" Amedeo said into the phone in a tense voice that was still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. But upon his next words, he was relaxed again and let himself fall back into his pillow, voice tuned low. "Oh, hi Keyla. ... No, well, you kind of woke me, it's-" he held out the phone to read the clock on the display, "-four in the morning. ... No, I'm back in Europe. ... Permanently. ... It's okay, don't worry. What's up? ... Oh, Keyla, that's terrible. I'm so sorry. What did the bastard do? ... Uh-huh. ... Uh-huh. ... That blows. ... Ah, Keyla... Don't you read the gossip columns anymore? I'm as good as married, permission from parliament and all. ... Uh-huh. ... No, not- Keyla, he's a prince, not a princess. ... No, that's the British chap. He was married the other month. ... A Swede, Keyla. ... No, no, I'm- Keyla, just google it. ... Yes. ... No problem, hon. ... Bye, Keyla."

Guillaume had almost fallen asleep again, lulled by the familiar voice at his side, when he heard that term of endearment and frowned. Amedeo had no relatives by the name of Keyla, no one called that had ever been mentioned anywhere so who warranted to have that pet name? "Keyla?" he asked quietly as his lover put the phone back on the night stand and retrieved his watch from the floor.

But Amedeo just rolled towards him to pull him closer and snuggle up for another almost-two-hours of well deserved sleep. It was one of their first quiet days since the new year began; finalising Amedeo's move, settling appointments, figuring out where what went where in their lives without the end-of-year rush. Which furniture would they keep, which were to be thrown out, did they want to renovate before buying anything new? Busy days, during which they had hardly managed to go to bed at the same time.

"Ex-girlfriend," he murmured sleepily, "she left her cheating bastard of a husband last week and I think she's on the rebound. At least she asked if we could meet up and as we went our separate ways when she moved out to Oregon." He shrugged, yawned and snuggled in even more.

But Guillaume didn't need to hear any more to be up and out of bed immediately, switching on the bedside light. "What?"

Amedeo frowned up at him. "What what? Why did you get up? Come back to bed."

"You just got a call from your ex, basically asking you to hop back into bed with her! And you just roll over and- You can't be serious!" Amedeo had to be mad not to see how wrong this was.

"Guillaume, Keyla didn't know I'm in a relationship, with you no less if I may remind you, so you can't really blame her for that. And you can't think I would have accepted the offer even if you hadn't been _lying right next to me_!" No, certainly, Guillaume would never think that. He knew Amedeo loved him and they had worked too long for something like that to come between them now, but-

Amedeo had sat up by now as well, his gaze having turned truly angry. "Guillaume, seriously!"

"Can you say the call would not have gone differently, if the circumstances weren't the way they are?" He had to know. Had to.

His lover muttered something under his breath that Guillaume couldn't understand, but sounded suspiciously like Italian curses and got out of bed himself, positioned right across from him with just the mattress between them. "What other circumstances? If I didn't have you? If it was four years ago and you hadn't kissed me after that wedding? If I was still single and living in New York? If you were married to some nice Catholic princess you met at some function and had a couple of kids already?"

Guillaume pressed his lips together and averted his gaze. This was not the discussion he meant to have with Amedeo; not now, not ever.

"Answer me!"

"So what if this was four years ago and I still had kissed you at the wedding?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Amedeo sounded angry, baffled, disbelieving and Guillaume could only marginally understand how the situation could have gotten away from him like this.

He briefly closed his eyes. "I want to know, yes."

Amedeo just shook his head and his voice, when he finally spoke, was colder than ice and Guillaume thought maybe he was starting to understand why the Habsburg dynasty had lasted almost a thousand years. They were scary enough all on their own. "Then I still wouldn't have seen Keyla in over two years. Do you understand this? We're arguing about a woman I haven't seen in over six years, who hasn't spoken to me in over six years and who obviously didn't know about my situation now. You're not only being ridiculous, you're insulting me by implying I would... Really, Guillaume? Is that what you think of me? After everything we've been through during the last few weeks?"

No, no, Guillaume didn't think of Amedeo like that, not at all. But he couldn't say it, for some reason the words just didn't come. So he just stood, looking on as Amedeo shook his head sadly, muttered more Italian profanities - and Guillaume understood enough Italian that his ears should have started ringing - and retrieved an overnight bag from the closet. It was only when Amedeo started to throw clothes at random into it that it dawned on him.

"Are you leaving me?" he asked in shock. That was unimaginable, they had just received permission and-

"No." It was a court statement, and extremely reassuring, but Amedeo still zipped the bag shut and started to get dressed. Seemingly on second thought he got out a clothes bag and carefully stored a suit in it. "But I think it's best if we aren't in the same building right now, big as the castle may be."

Guillaume could just stare as Amedeo shrugged into a jacket and stood almost ready to leave in his casual wear. "And where do you think you're going now?"

"I have an appointment in Liège at noon. If I leave now, I'll be at the station in time for the first train." He had spoken to the opposite wall while putting on his shoes, but turned around now; his eyes were still stormy, his gaze still angry but Guillaume knew, could see that Amedeo still loved him. "Don't expect me to come home tonight."

He got up and walked to the door, closing it - quietly - behind him without another word, leaving Guillaume alone in their empty bedroom.

Dodging questions after Amedeo at breakfast was easy, as Guillaume simply left the estate before his parents even got up. Sleep had been out of the question after his lover had left, which left him with entirely too much time on his hands to set things into motion. Anything just so he wouldn't have to think.

By the time breakfast would have rolled around, Guillaume was talking with his handler in Hong Kong, arranging another trip there to further trade. Theoretically that had never been his task in the first place, Luxembourg had a capable government after all, but once they made him honorary chairman he got interested in the matter, and with his educational background he was suited to be the one doing this. That aside, it gave him something to do that only marginally touched onto his duties as the Hereditary Grand Duke, which suited him well enough.

Midway through the morning, Sébastien called to announce that two of his lectures had been cancelled and he wanted to have lunch with him. Ever since his youngest brother had moved out to study in Trier, those weren't uncommon requests, as it made for not even an hour's drive. Guillaume secretly thought his little brother was homesick and gladly did him the little favour, even though they had to meet up in Trier; people tended to recognise them too easily on their side of the border.

"Where's Amedeo? I sure thought you'd bring him," Sébastien remarked after he had sat down, frowning at the cigarette package laying on the table from his first smoke since Amedeo had moved in that he'd just had outside. His little brother was wearing jeans and a sweater and Guillaume suddenly felt overdressed in his suit and tie. "You do know I wouldn't have minded, right?"

"He's being royalty in Liège today," he answered and hid behind a menu. There was no use in letting Sébastien in on what was going on between them.

Sébastien blinked. "That doesn't sound too enthusiastic. I know he's still doing work for Philippe, but can't you get a few appointments together or something? Everyone knows you're engaged anyway, there's no need to hide that." But Guillaume just shrugged and turned one page further. "Guillaume? Is everything all right?"

"Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Two things: First, that menu has exactly four pages and you've leaved through at least twelve by now. Second, you're holding it upside down," Sébastien pointed out and reached over to tuck it out of his hands. "You'll have a club sandwich, lightly toasted and ginger ale, followed by a shot of espresso afterwards. Same as you always do. What's up with Amedeo?" He raised his eyebrows and started rummaging in his bag. "Or do I need to call him?"

Guillaume sighed. "He walked out on me at four this morning."

"Excuse me, he did- What happened exactly?"

And so, Guillaume relayed in short sentences what had taken place between them that night, obviously much to the horror of Sébastien, who didn't seem to be able to stop shaking his head.

"Big brother, you... Count yourself lucky you took up with a relation of ours," Sébastien sighed and thanked the waitress, who put a plate in front of him.

"Why are you saying that?" Guillaume inquired and took the first sip from his glass.

Sébastien shook his head again. "Anyone with only a trace of self-worth would have left you on the spot, public announcement or not." He frowned. "Screw that, _I_ would have left you. Amedeo must be besotted with you if he did nothing but walk away from that situation."

What was Sébastien saying here? He had expected his little brother would tell him he thought it pointless of Amedeo as well. "I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't. I'll spell it out for you: after four years and keeping it a secret just to yourselves, after the potential consequences for you with Paps and your position, after Amedeo had a showdown at noon with his mother and came back from it battered and bruised, you essentially insinuated he was cheating on you at the first chance offered to him. And all just because you are being irrational about it." His brother briefly crossed his arms in front of his chest before taking up his cutlery again.

"I never said such a thing!" How could Sébastien - or Amedeo for that matter, ever think he would assume such a thing?

"You sure did! And that's the point, you know? I'm sure over the last four years of you living on different continents there would have been plenty of opportunities for him to find someone else to take to bed, he didn't need to wait for some girl he was dating at one time to call him while you're there to hear it all." Sébastien irately stabbed a gnoccho onto his fork to put into his mouth and chew it vigorously. "You're making _me_ angry, I don't even want to imagine how furious Amedeo must be."

"Don't speak with your mouth full," Guillaume commanded absent-mindedly, but his brother just rolled his eyes.

"You really do have other problems right now," he answered after swallowing. "And I'm pretty sure he hasn't."

"What?"

"Found someone else to bed in the four years you were living on two different continents. I guess that's the advantage of taking up with someone who's known you all his life; he must have been bloody sure about you, right from the start." Sébastien shrugged and turned to his food again.

"How do you know I didn't do that?" Guillaume wanted to know, genuinely interested in the answer. Not that he ever would have, but the hows and whys were good to know nonetheless.

Sébastien looked at him straight from across the table and said bluntly, "Mama raised you too well for you not to be aware of the potential consequences of casual sex, Guillaume. All of us, actually, it's not her fault it didn't take with everyone." That was clearly a hint at Louis, but a well-deserved one. "Besides, you must have been very sure of him as well and you aren't a cheater."

Guillaume fixed an appraising glance on his brother and found that maybe he had to make amends where his opinions about Sébastien were concerned. His little brother had stopped being a child, it seemed, and maybe his thoughts were more than just a side-note.

"You have a chance to fix this, big brother. You better take it, or I'm really going to be angry with you."

It was a threat that didn't carry quite as much weight as if had been made by their sister or their mother, but Guillaume was acutely aware that he had quite a few things to keep in mind.

Guillaume managed to go exactly one night in the knowledge that Amedeo was probably less than a three hour car ride away from him, because where else would he be but at Philippe's (and he really hoped Amedeo hadn't been angry enough to go to Andrea's or William's, with all that talk about supporting one another in times of need), and he couldn't be with him. Because of his own stupidity, too, apparently.

It was still early, in fact it was before breakfast yet again, when Guillaume postponed all of his morning appointments the next day and requisitioned one of the cars for his own purposes. During the drive he had ample opportunity to think further on what Sébastien had said yesterday. Had he really made it look like he expected Amedeo to be unfaithful and jump at this offer of Keyla's? Between the desire not to be hurt and his trust in Amedeo, which he truly did have, he wasn't sure anymore. And he didn't even male sense to himself any longer.

All Guillaume knew was that he wanted, _needed_ Amedeo to be with him, especially now. And he knew he had to be there for Amedeo, especially as long as the business with Astrid wasn't dealt with. Amedeo simply mattered too much to him to even think about giving up their relationship, the public announcement of their engagement didn't even factor into that one little bit.

Maybe Guillaume had not expressed himself well. Then again, even at the time he had not quite known what he was getting at, so maybe the point was moot. Now he just somehow had to explain that to Amedeo. He just wasn't entirely sure how.

Being let into the royal compound of Laeken wasn't a problem, he was part of the extended family and everyone knew about him and Amedeo by now anyway. What surprised him was that Philippe personally opened the door for him before he could even step up to the palace proper.

"Took you long enough," the Duke of Brabant said with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly establishing who was king in this particular abode. "Whatever did you do to that nephew of mine?"

Guillaume sighed; he'd hoped he wouldn't have to answer any such questions. "It's complicated. Look, Philippe, just-"

"Guillaume, I'm serious. Whatever you did, if you're not here to get it out of the way, don't bother coming in. The situation he's in with Astrid is bad enough, he really doesn't need you to make it even worse." Philippe frowned down at him with clear misgivings.

But Guillaume pulled himself together; he knew fully well that this was all his own fault and he probably deserved this. And it was good to know Philippe was standing up for Amedeo if the need arose, that gave Guillaume hope for the future being a little easier than the present. So all he said was, "I'm here to fix it. If I can."

The Duke of Brabant looked at him, with unhidden scrutiny, for a few more seconds before he gave the door free. "He's in the living room."

Guillaume thanked him and made his way in the appointed direction. When he entered the private living room of Philippe and Mathilde's apartment he saw his lover pacing and nodding into his mobile phone, but Amedeo stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Guillaume. "Yes. He's here now. ... Yes, Andrea, you take care, too. Bye."

"Was that-"

"I don't think it's any of your business," Amedeo told him flatly, but regarded him with some curiosity as he sat down on the arm rest of the sofa. "As you convinced my uncle to let you in... Did you have opportunity to give some thought to our last discussion?"

That hurt, of course, but Guillaume figured he probably deserved it, too. He sighed but looked Amedeo in the eye. "I'm sorry I said all of that. I didn't mean to insult you or insinuate you would ever sleep around even if a thousand opportunities were offered to you. I'm really sorry, Amedeo."

His lover frowned at him. "And you should be. It really hurt to hear you say that, you know? No matter how much I love you, this is not going to work between us if you can't trust me, if we can't trust each other. I thought that had long been clear and established and now you suddenly throw something like that at me."

"Amedeo, I do trust you!" He did. They had been together for years and Guillaume had never had any kind of doubts in his lover; they weren't using condoms anymore and he knew that neither of them had even thought about agreeing to that if there was not this implicit trust between them.

"Then what was this about?" He could only shake his head. "Guillaume!"

Maybe this wasn't about condoms or the fact that Guillaume had never even wasted a single thought on the possibility that Amedeo could cheat on him, ever. Or maybe it was exactly that and the mere idea of it had only truly occurred to him two nights ago for the first time.

"Look, I'm not going to stand in my uncle's home and fight with you. If you're not ready to discuss this please-"

"Amedeo." He couldn't let it end like this, that simply wasn't an option. And that had nothing to do with causing a scandal in public or massive problems on family get togethers if they separated now.

"What?" Amedeo didn't sound angry or sad or even tired; he sounded normal, as if they were having a conversation like they would any given day.

Guillaume would have loved to tell him that given a choice he would have chosen Amedeo over his inheritance any day, but that would not have been the truth. He wished he could tell his lover that he meant the world to him, which was true but he would never be able to place their relationship over his duties and Amedeo knew that. Amedeo knew everything he could have said in regards to any of that, which likely was part of the problem to start with. So what he eventually did say was the only thing that wasn't a compromise for either of them.

"I can't lose you."

Amedeo looked at him for a long moment without saying anything, then sighed. "This is not about whether or not you'll lose me, Guillaume. This has never been about that and you know it. It's nice of you to say it, though. You can't come out with things like the other night and expect me to swallow them and not get angry."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Guillaume said, quietly relieved this wouldn't end in a break up, and tried not to look away. He almost completely succeeded. "I'm sorry."

"I told you once before that I don't have to justify myself in front of you and you agreed that indeed I didn't." Guillaume nodded his agreement, yes they'd had that discussion. "And I still don't, but I will tell you just this once, I haven't even once thought about being with someone else since we started seeing each other. Do you remember why we took so long in the beginning?"

He blinked. As if he could ever forget. "The stakes were just too high." With their families being so close, they never would have been able to both attend a get together without it becoming weird between them if things hadn't worked out. Once you'd been in bed with someone, you couldn't make it undone.

"And yet we still made it work, because we fell in love and it went deep enough to be worth what we were giving up. And that's good, Guillaume, because I find myself quite unwilling to lose you, either." Amedeo smiled a little, then, the corner of his mouth rising ever so slightly.

"I never asked you to give anything up," Guillaume sighed but was aware that with Astrid, at least, Amedeo hadn't had much of a choice. Yet there was still hope she would get around to accepting them, eventually.

But his lover just shook his head, his smile more pronounced now, a silent mockery of amusement he probably didn't feel. "No, and I would never blame you for that. But even my mother aside, it comes with the job description. Don't worry, I was fully aware of any potential implications before we ever did this."

There were a lot of routes that were closed to them, simply due to the fact of who their parents were, other routes - and Guillaume suddenly became acutely aware of that, because until now it had it had simply been a given for him - they had closed after themselves by choosing each other.

That was the moment when nothing they were talking about seemed to make sense anymore. And Guillaume made several steps towards where Amedeo was still sitting on the arm rest of the sofa and put his arms around his lover. There was a second of surprise, then Amedeo hugged him back, squeezing tight.

"I love you," he said quietly, earnestly, into Amedeo's ear and his lover nodded.

"I love you, too," Amedeo answered and they just held each other; Guillaume couldn't have said how long, he just began to stroke up and down his lover's back.

After a while he exhaled heavily and pried himself away from Amedeo's embrace to take his face between his hands and press a lingering but chaste kiss to his lips. "Did William and Carl Philip have this discussion too, do you think?"

Amedeo returned the kiss, both hands now resting on Guillaume's hips. "Knowing Carl, Wills is having his hands full enough keeping him from running as fast as he can as soon as a camera shows up." He sighed and pulled Guillaume to him again, resting his cheek against his shoulder while Guillaume buried one hand in his hair and let the other rest against his back. "We need to talk about things like this, Guillaume. Letting them run away with us is not a solution, apparently."

"Yes," Guillaume answered and dropped a kiss on Amedeo's head. "I think next time Philippe might bite my head off."

He heard his lover smile more than saw it. "He's not that bad."

"He is. But that's good, there need to be people who will protect you when I can't." He patted Amedeo's shoulder, then tightened his grip minutely.

"I need protection, do I?" Amedeo raised his head to look into his eyes.

He smiled. "Everyone needs protecting sometimes." Bending down, he kissed Amedeo once more and then let go of him with a heavy heart. "I need to go, I pushed all appointments back that I could, but this one I need to keep. I'll see you at home?"

Amedeo nodded and got up to accompany him to the door, one hand to the small of his back. "Yes, you will. But only if you trash the cigarettes."

Guillaume gave an acknowledging nod of his own to Philippe on the way out, who looked relieved enough, although he muttered something about his children being disappointed their cousin wouldn't be around any longer.

They kissed one last time at the entrance, before Guillaume made his way to the car.

It was late when he finally let the door to his apartment fall shut behind him. The day had been longer than he had anticipated, and when he toed off his dress shoes, he breathed a sigh of relief. Right now all he wished for was find Amedeo and stretch out next to him, but he needed something to eat first.

There were three used wine glasses in the sink when he opened the fridge to retrieve ingredients for a sandwich;one bore the traces of his mother's lipstick. So his parents had been here at some point in the evening, probably curious what had been happening the past two days. He sighed as he put together bread and cheese, then rubbed his eyes. Definitely too long; he had promised Amedeo he would ease up on his workload, at least until the wedding so they wouldn't stress over that too much. William had dropped a few hints about what a nightmare organising theirs had been at times, and Guillaume had the sneaking suspicion that with a full workload he wouldn't live to see their honeymoon.

When he finally found Amedeo in the bedroom, sitting upright in bed and reading, he leaned against the door frame and just watched for a moment. These were the moments when Guillaume knew this was right and nothing would ever change that conviction. "Hey," he said and pushed away from the door to hang up his suit jacket.

Amedeo looked up, obviously having been fully concentrated on the book before but now put it down. "Hey," he called out quietly, smiling. "Found your way home, I see. Took that long to find a place to bury your sins?"

Guillaume smiled tightly at the rebuff. "Yes, sorry about that. Things started to pop up left and right all of a sudden, like mushrooms." He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed on Amedeo's side, leaned in and they kissed. Far too carefully for his taste, but if he was honest he needed a hot shower more than he wanted sex right now, shocking as the realisation was, so the cautious way Amedeo was treating this suited him well enough. "Were my parents here?"

His lover smiled and leaned forward to kiss him again. "I think they're worried we're getting panicked over everything moving forward now. I assured them neither of us is getting cold feet. We agreed that you're working too much, though."

"Did you now?"

"I'm serious, Guillaume, you're doing too much. There needs to be a limit to how hard you push yourself." Amedeo reached out one hand to cup his face and Guillaume briefly leaned into the touch. They had discussed this more times than he cared to recall, and he knew they all were right but didn't seem to be able to help it. Who would do it if not him?

There was was no point in them fighting over this when they had just gotten over one argument today. "I'll see what I can do about my workload."

Amedeo nodded, obviously not quite satisfied with the answer but it seemed he had decided to let it rest for now. "Are you coming to bed?"

"Shower first," Guillaume shook his head as Amedeo's hand dropped away from him. "Care to join me?"

"And have you fall asleep because I make a convenient lean-to?" Amedeo smirked. "Not a chance."

"Ah, cruel cruel world," he sighed and got up to start getting rid of his clothes. "Amedeo?" he asked when he had his shirt half unbuttoned and knew he had his undivided attention.

"Hm?" Although that sounded a little distracted.

"We're good now, right?" He would be lying if he claimed not to be worried still, despite their discussion that morning.

Instead of answering, Amedeo dragged his eyes upward and they looked one another in the eye until he broke into a smile and got up to step close to Guillaume. There was a moment when they just stood there, in front of each other, breathing, until Amedeo raised one tentative hand and let it slip into Guillaume's open shirt.

Guillaume could hear the hitch in his own breath when Amedeo touched him and managed to resist for all of ten second before he drew him down for a kiss that was much more intimate than their greeting just minutes ago. The sounds they were making grew more desperate as they kissed, tongues coming out to play and there was that point when Guillaume had to hang onto his lover to keep his balance.

It was Amedeo who eventually broke the kiss, arms tight around him beneath his completely opened shirt now - partly to keep them close but also to keep Guillaume standing upright. "See what I mean?" he grumbled and let go cautiously, making sure no one was about to drop to the floor. "If you fall in the shower and break your neck, I swear I'm going to strangle you afterwards on top of it."

"So come with me," Guillaume said and leaned up to place a kiss against Amedeo's throat, as his lover was still fully dressed. Which wasn't quite right, now that he thought of it. He felt Amedeo hesitate on the brink of giving in and he knew there was one way to make that happen. "Please?"

Amedeo made that little sound that told him exactly he had reached his goal even before his lover told him, "Go, before I change my mind again."

Sex in the shower was slippery and Guillaume was weary enough to realise he really was in danger of slipping and hurting himself, but just having Amedeo naked and wet and within touching distance went a long way to make him feel better. They kissed, touched and petted and his nerves, still frayed from their fight and the subsequent tension, calmed down little by little.

"You okay?" Amedeo asked as he let his hand slide over Guillaume's side, steadying as much as caressing.

"Fine. Just tired. Let's not do this again." He dropped a kiss on Amedeo's chest before shutting off the taps and reaching for a towel.

"I'm not sure it's eternally preventable," Amedeo smirked, "you're stubborn, after all."

Guillaume growled slightly as he tossed a second towel to his broadly grinning lover.

"And besides," Amedeo added and caught him in a kiss, "making up is almost worth it."

Their lovemaking, once they made it into bed, was not quite as urgent as Guillaume would have liked or imagined. He really was exhausted and Amedeo seemed to keep it intentionally slow and easy. Guillaume, for once, was willing to postpone thinking anything altogether.

Amedeo suddenly changed their rhythm and nipped at his throat. "If you still have capacity to think, I'm doing something wrong."

Guillaume shook his head. Nothing wrong. Right, everything was just right.

Later, he was half lying on Amedeo and half-asleep already, Amedeo shifted them so they both could be comfortable and Guillaume only felt himself relax more and nearing sleep. A hand in his hair, Amedeo kissed his forehead, his closed eyes and murmured to him. Mostly, he couldn't understand, it was unintelligible or maybe Guillaume was just too tired to follow. "...keep you," he heard, "you know, love? ...not letting you go, and I'm not letting you work yourself to death."

Another kiss landed on his forehead and he wanted to say something, but he was just too exhausted to summon the energy for it. Maybe Amedeo was right. When his lover shifted them again, arranging their weight so they both could both be comfortable yet twined together like this, Guillaume made the effort to free his arm from between them and slung it around Amedeo's waist, tensing his muscles just enough to him know he had heard.

Maybe Amedeo really was right. But that was his last conscious thought that night.

~*~

Arriving the day before the polo tournament turned out to be a good idea after all, even though Guillaume had been sceptical about it at first. William and Harry, ever charitable and fond of drawing others into it, had organised another one of their events for charity and this time they had invited everyone who only even belonged peripherally to royal circles. The problem with this was: hardly anyone was all that interested in polo.

While that was true, and while Guillaume himself would never be insane enough to try picking up a mallet, Félix had jumped at the opportunity, assembled a team and happily flown to London three days ago to get at least one training session under their belts.

Guillaume had been tied up with official appointments until late the previous evening, so they hadn't managed to fly out before the planes were grounded due to the air-traffic controllers being on strike. He had wanted to cancel but Amedeo had yielded him no quarter and booked train tickets. "We're going to London. Unless you contract the pox, you're not getting out of this; your brother is expecting us to cheer him on, Wills and Carl have invited us for the celebratory dinner tomorrow and we're not cancelling that."

Eventually, he had given in and called ahead to let his brother know. Félix was cheerful and told them to take their time, he was busy. Probably boasting in front of his girlfriend and her friends.

Neither of them had expected for William and Carl Philip to pick them up from the train, but Amedeo at least seemed pleasantly surprised and got himself entangled in an enthusiastic conversation about polo in the car. Guillaume rested one if his hands lightly on his lover's knee but didn't do anything else; these two might be friends, in the loosest definition of the term, and gay on top but that didn't mean he should be making too overt moves.

"I didn't know Amedeo was proficient in polo," Carl Philip said quietly to him and if that wasn't revolutionary, Guillaume didn't know what was.

He smiled, hoping he looked harmless and met the other man's eyes in the rear view mirror only briefly. "Me neither. With years at a British boarding school, it's to be expected though. But then, I'm a polo illiterate."

"Before I came here to be with Wills I knew nothing about polo but that they played it with horses. You can catch up, but I think you need to be British to find passion in it," Carl Philip explained.

"Or be my brother," Guillaume sighed. "Have you seen him, yet?"

"We talked to him briefly when Pierre brought him and his girlfriend along. Seems the girls are friends," William interrupted them from the passenger seat, looking over his shoulder. "Those two have hit it off, Pierre and your brother I mean, seems studying in Italy creates an instant link."

Guillaume wasn't so sure how he felt about his little brother being friendly with a Casiraghi, although Pierre Casiraghi was probably the lesser evil. Unless one considered the possible business connections he would make sooner rather than later. But Guillaume really couldn't think about that now, as Amedeo was leaning forward so he could more easily talk to the two men up front. "How is it you're playing chauffeur for us anyway, Carl? Not that I mind, but I thought you Brits were always so well protected."

"Carl gets grumpy when he's not allowed to drive and the securities are getting sick of it once in a while, so they're allowing him to do things like this to placate him," William explained and reached over to pat his husband's thigh. "Besides, this way we didn't have to take two cars."

"I have a racing license and am conducting advanced driver training regularly, there's no way they're any better at this than me." Carl Philip scowled but kept his eyes on the traffic they were moving in. "Give me a pistol and I'm as well equipped as they are. I do have a hunting license, too."

"I don't think we should be talking about your equipment right now, love. Keep driving." Carl Philip only grumbled something unintelligible in return but brought them safely to Clarence House.

Guillaume could clearly see that Amedeo was trying very hard not to laugh, while he himself could only shake his head in resignation. How could he have let Amedeo talk him into this?

He was reminded of the how and why in minute detail that evening when the door to their guest quarters in York House had fallen shut behind them. They made short work of their clothes and before he had quite oriented himself, Amedeo had already pushed him onto the bed, nipping upward from his collarbone over his throat.

"Careful, I still need that shirt tomorrow," Guillaume murmured and shuddered under the delicious ministrations of his lover.

"You don't need that shirt. You have more packed. And besides," Amedeo answered and let his hand trail over his chest, past sensitized nerve ends, "I guess the British court probably has several seamstresses at their disposal if you forgot your sewing kit."

"But-" He had to shut up when Amedeo kissed him deeply and Guillaume's arms came around him automatically. "But when I ask William for a seamstress because of my popped buttons, he'll definitely smell the rat."

His lover leaned back a little so they could look at each other properly and raised one mocking eyebrow. "And you imagine they don't _know_ what we're doing? What do you imagine is going on in _their_ bedroom right at this moment?"

Guillaume really didn't want to imagine and made that beyond clear to his lover by pulling him closer insistently and busying himself with seeking out the especially sensitive spots. He had Amedeo pinned under him, splayed out and all areas easily accessible and wasn't that the most delicious sight ever?

"I love you," he whispered against Amedeo's lips.

Instead of answering, his lover only pressed closer and their rhythm picked up.

He loved Amedeo. Pure and simple. Guillaume knew, if he'd been forced to chose between his position as his father's heir and love, duty would have won out - for the simple reason that he could not have disappointed his parents like that, nor burdened Félix with the position of heir apparent directly. And that was why he was deliriously happy the people who mattered had been accepting of his choice. That didn't mean there weren't obstacles. It was just that he was confident, right now while Amedeo was kissing his breath away, that there would be some way to overcome them.

When Guillaume entered the morning room of Clarence House early the next day, he had half-expected William to be there, although not in his full polo-getup already. "You're slightly overdressed," the English heir greeted with him with an amused smile. "At least lose the tie; it's a polo game, not a trade meeting."

Guillaume sighed and wondered again why he had let Amedeo talk him into this while he loosened the knot and pulled the tie from around his neck. "You're up early."

"As are you. We both know it's part of the job and when I get Carl to voluntarily roll out of bed at this time of day, I'm not about to complain." William looked at him, eyes narrowing. "And now open the first two buttons, then you can have coffee."

"What is it with you?" Guillaume asked exasperatedly as he did as requested and sat down, a maid appearing out of nowhere with a breakfast tray while William raised one questioning eyebrow - which made Guillaume wonder what this was about yet again - and got up with a smirk to busy himself with the coffee machine.

"I just don't want you to feel out of place today," he answered a few moments later and put a steaming cup in front of his guest. "Half of us will be in dusty riding gear, the other half won't bother with the full getup."

Guillaume grumbled as he busied himself with his food. Thankfully, no one had assumed him to be fond of a full English breakfast and he had been spared baked beans and black pudding. If he hadn't more or less promised back in Monaco to make a bit more of an effort, he wouldn't have bothered to come today, good cause or no. With the planes down and appointments waiting for him... But William had requested a talk and Guillaume was about to ask when the man spoke up.

"How's your wedding preparation going?" he asked casually.

"Differently from how we did it for Louis," he sighed and that was the most frustrating aspect about it. When they had decided on the date, Guillaume had hoped it would be somewhat similar, they could have relied on previous experiences that weren't over thirty years old already.

William made a humming sound of agreement. "That's because you're the heir apparent and don't plan a church wedding."

Guillaume snorted. As if the church would ever let them marry. He sipped his coffee in contemplation and drummed his fingers on the table top while William buttered another piece of toast. Talking about the wedding with someone who'd been through it all was well and good, but he really would prefer not to. "So if Pierre is here, why isn't Andrea? I got the impression you got along pretty well."

William stopped dead in his motions and looked up with raised eyebrows. "Your brother brought Pierre along," he said shrugging. "Andrea meant to come but had to attend some pseudo-political function on command of his uncle."

Frowning, Guillaume set the cup down and reached for some toast as well. "All is not well there, is it?"

"No," his breakfast companion said curtly, obviously the topic was a sensitive one. "You haven't reduced your workload, have you?"

Not that again. Guillaume understood the desire to change the topic but that was just... "Don't you start, too," he groaned. "You of all people should know about obligations and priorities."

The other man let that sit for a moment. "I also know about keeping life in a balance. Between my duties for grandmother, my flying status for the RAF and my family here at home; and with Carl also still having his duties and his racing career in Sweden and _his_ family as well... There's a lot of juggling involved, I'll grant you that. Yet I was in Sweden for seven out of eight racing weekends last year and we've been visiting Andrea and Tatiana in France and Monaco a couple of times since our wedding."

"When do you sleep?"

"Literally or figuratively?" William asked with a wolfish grin and Guillaume threw him a dark look, at which he - if not sobered - at least turned serious again. "If I'm not on SAR duty, or one of us is otherwise engaged, at night in bed with my husband. On planes, occasionally. Sometimes, I even let Carl convince me to have a lie in." He frowned. "Those two should be back by now."

"I'm surprised Amedeo got up not much after me," Guillaume remarked, "up until now that only happened during New York visits, when I was too jet lagged to even know which date it was."

"Carl has nervous energy to burn and as Amedeo is a fellow runner, they might as well. I'm not much for Buckingham Park, the guards used to tell us off when we were children." William shrugged casually. "How's he taking the transition?"

"I think he's adjusted by now. For the most part. He keeps niggling that I work too much but- What?" William was throwing him a meaningful look. "I'm doing my duties, William. You-"

"-should understand," he was interrupted. "And I do. You don't grow up the heir to the British throne and that of sixteen independent Commonwealth states without repeated lectures on responsibility. For some reason, they also don't let you fly multi-million pound machines without a repeat of those lectures during flyboy training, although I couldn't possibly explain why," William added with a smirk, then paused.

"So you agree with me!" Guillaume concluded and felt a tiny bit triumphant, because now he could tell Amedeo that yes, William saw it the same way he did.

"I agree that we have obligations to follow that normal people don't even have nightmares about. On the other hand, I've come to understand a good, long while ago that I also have the responsibility towards Carl not to leave him fending for himself twenty years from now because I've overdone it and have succumbed to a stress induced heart attack or something similar," William pointed out. "Him and me both have the responsibility to come home at night and not take risks that will land us in an early grave."

"Carl Philip drives _race cars_ ," Guillaume said with a good amount of disbelief. That could not possibly be about not taking risks.

"I'm flying Sea King helicopters," the other man shrugged. "It's a trade off. So was, ultimately, our marriage. But while we won't ever have children, we both have nieces and nephews - by blood and by marriage - we want to see grow up, and we have siblings and cousins to look out for. But it does come down to the simple fact that what I do with my life affects Carl just as much as me - and vice versa, of course - but between us I'm the one who needs to make sure there actually is a life for us to live in the first place. How do you think the other heirs manage to have children? Sex by schedule? Let me tell you, that doesn't usually work so well."

"Not a department we're having problems with," Guillaume murmured into his coffee cup and saw William lift both eyebrows as if to indicate that had been more information than he wished to have.

"That's... good for you. Doesn't solve the overall problem though."

Guillaume sighed. "Did Amedeo make you do this? He's exaggerating." Exaggerating in how much he was thinking about it, probably not in his perception of Guillaume's workload - which was hard to be mistaken about, after all.

The other man sighed then, put down his own cup gently on the saucer, put both elbows on the table - making Guillaume frown - and folded his hands in front of him. "I appreciate stubbornness, but what you're doing is plain idiocy."

"Excuse me?" Guillaume couldn't help but stare. Under any other circumstances, this just now would have caused an international incident. Under _these_ circumstances it still was an international incident, Guillaume was just too shocked to get up and leave.

"Guillaume, one look at your schedule with a critical eye is enough to make my hackles rise. Your official appointments make what, up to 40 hours a week?" He nodded cautiously; that could be right. In a slow week. "Knowing about appointments and what's been delegated to you, I'm guessing you're working 80, 90 hours easily. Then there's travel time and the like. If I did that week in and week out, Carl would up and leave for Sweden until I've come back to my senses. Don't you think you're overdoing it?"

"I have to-"

"You _have_ to take responsibility for your life as well, not just for your title. I thought you'd understood that much when we spoke at the cemetery, but it seems I was too optimistic. Why do you think Amedeo is making noises about your workload, as you say?" he wanted to know in a demanding tone of voice, and Guillaume wondered if he should just balk and get up to leave, but he feared that might cause an international incident indeed. And provoke an argument with Amedeo.

"He doesn't understand what it means to be heir," he answered with a frown.

"Considering he was just that for Philippe until Elisabeth was born, you're under false assumptions here," William said a little more quietly, seemingly having calmed down some. "Look, I realise I have no influence over what you do and what you don't do, but don't you think you owe it to your future husband to be able to live a life without the persistent worry if you've eaten enough, slept enough or are coming home that night at all?"

Taken aback, Guillaume blinked at that. While he knew Amedeo had always worried for him and worried about him, he never had considered that it might go quite to this extent. His lover had his own work, and not really the time for worry about something he shouldn't have to worry about. And while Guillaume never forgot who was waiting for him at home, there had been enough nights when he'd sneaked into bed late, Amedeo automatically rolling against him and pulling him close. Maybe that was more than the subconscious desire for closeness, maybe it was the sheer need for reassurance.

He was still pondering this when Amedeo and Carl Philip entered the room, fresh from their run and joking about something only they were privy to. Carl Philip called a greeting after kissing his husband quickly - nothing but a small gesture of affection - and sat down at the table, obviously famished. Guillaume didn't hear what William told him about taking a shower, a grin on his face because Amedeo had come around to his side of the table and was staring at him.

"What is it?" he wondered, looking around to see if anything was amiss.

"Nothing," Amedeo shook his head with a little smile and bent down to kiss him first on the cheek and then the lips. "Are you sending me showering or will you let me have breakfast?"

"You can eat," Guillaume allowed and leaned in to return the little kiss - acceptable in private setting like this after all - after Amedeo had sat down next to him. "Did you have fun?"

"Buckingham Park isn't exciting, but it'll do for now," his lover answered and gratefully accepted the breakfast tray the maid was placing in front of him. One had to leave it to the Brits, their staff didn't even bat an eyelash when two princes sat down for breakfast sweaty and flushed. Possibly, long-term exposure to the likes of a Prince Harry did that to anyone.

As Guillaume watched Amedeo dig in, he sighed quietly to himself and searched for William's eyes. He gave a nod to acknowledge what had passed between them and received a lopsided smile in return. It stood to be proven how lasting agreements over breakfast were to be.

~*~

As royal weddings went, Guillaume had begun to understand the fuss everyone was making around them before the legal ceremony marking his own, when he suddenly found himself incapable of fastening the sash and saber correctly. It was mortifying when his mother had to come to his aid and dress him properly, something that hadn't been necessary since Guillaume had entered primary school. It was even worse because the love bites Amedeo had placed on his throat were only just so covered by his collar, and while he didn't think his parents were under any illusions of what they were doing, he didn't want to present his mother with the lurid evidence.

She had just departed with a smile and a reassuring pat to his arm when Félix slipped into the room. His younger brother would sign the marriage certificate as Guillaume's witness and had promptly saluted when he had asked him in one of the few quiet moments they'd had together in the last few months. "You're looking good," Félix remarked in mock surprise.

"Mama used the term 'stunning', I'll have you know," Guillaume answered distractedly while trying to shrug properly into the uniform jacket. The stupid thing had always sat as well as ceremonial dress was able to, but now for some reason it felt like someone else's.

"Yes, but that's Mama." Grinning, Félix slapped his hands away, pulled at two strategic points and the jacket seemed to fall into place all of a sudden. Breathing a sigh of relief, Guillaume shrugged once more and felt himself calm down a little. "Guillaume? I just sent Alexandra to Amedeo, I thought you should know. Uncle Albert called Paps, they've collected Astrid and are now on their way."

He blinked. Astrid. They hadn't quite dared to hope she would come, although it was only proper when your oldest child got married, but these were unique circumstances. "However did he manage that?"

"I don't know and I don't think we really _want_ to know. Between Uncle Albert and Aunt Paola..." Félix shrugged while looking him up and down a bit more. Guillaume was well aware what his brother didn't say, that between the King of Belgium and his wife, they could simply order her to attend; the question was if that would go over so well but now it was too late to worry.

"Yes. Okay. This will work, somehow. It has to." That had been his mantra for the past couple of weeks and how he now wished he had taken up William's offer at a last talk about what to expect. The reason why he hadn't was simple, as he had convinced himself that there was too much of a difference between their two countries, but now...

"Of course it will," Félix said airily, as if that was such a given. "Nervous?"

"If I didn't know Amedeo will do unspeakable things to me if I have one, I'd say I need a stiff drink. Or maybe the bottle." His brother was looking at him quizzically, but obviously decided he didn't actually want to know. Amedeo was still throwing him nasty looks if he so much as looked at a second bottle of beer, and Guillaume had been behaving himself since Christmas, but right now he could really have used the calming effects. Or maybe a cigarette.

"You'll live." His brother looked like he wanted to say more when there was knock at the door and their sister came in without waiting for an answer.

"There you are!"

"Where else would we be?" Félix shot back and Alexandra rolled her eyes.

Frowning, she closed the door behind herself to come over to them and fumble at Guillaume's collar. "There, much better." The glance at his love bites was pointed, and he had to fight down the blush that wanted to creep into his cheeks.

"Thank you," he said smiling and she smiled back.

"Don't mention it. So I was just with your husband-to-be and it seems we do have a problem after all," she sighed and Guillaume's heart plummeted. What could have gone wrong now?

"Don't tell me he wants to cancel." Please please, no.

But Alexandra just shook her head with a serious expression. "No, not at all. But Amedeo says the dress won't fit after all."

Much to Guillaume's eternal relief, Amedeo was of course not wearing a dress but looked spiff and speck in his uniform - even if the plume was a bit over the top, but there was no helping that. They'd met up in front of the room where the civil ceremony would take place, had exchanged a few words and everything had been over within 45 minutes, including Amedeo's mother glowering at them and everyone else shaking their hands, Guillaume's mother wiping away a tear that he hoped was one of joy and not one of regret.

By rights, they didn't have to walk to the Grand Ducal Palace where the reception would take place, as that was only custom after the religious ceremony, but they had decided in favour of it nonetheless. It was an opportunity for people to get used to seeing them together, as that had been mostly avoided so far, except for the various press conferences and the few carefully selected occasions when they had been allowed to act as the future Hereditary Grand Ducal Couple. And that was where Guillaume had been correct after all, the United Kingdom and Luxembourg were quite different in their handling of the situation, considering that for William and Carl Philip hardly a week had passed without them showing up in public together.

But that was history now, from this day forward... Guillaume sighed behind his smile. He was happy this day had finally come, but at the same time it made him nervous. How would the people react in the long run? They might be favourable now, but in the end they didn't really know Amedeo, nor them as a couple at all, what if they didn't have their expectations fulfilled? Luxembourg might not be big, but it was his home he had grown up here, he was supposed to rule these people one day - if only nominally - and what would be do if they didn't respect him any more now?

Amedeo squeezed his hand and threw him a quick look that unmistakably told him to stop thinking. Obviously, he was either less worried or much better at dealing with his worries. Guillaume squeezed back and told his brain to shut up already and let him enjoy the moment. He was here, he was married in a fashion that would have been nigh impossible only a couple of years ago and it had been much easier than he had expected. For the most part, at least.

If either of them had been worried about the protocol they were to keep during the reception, any such thoughts dissipated almost instantly when a certain Graeco-Danish princess caught Guillaume in a hug that almost smothered him. "Congratulations!" she yelled into his ear over the half-amused, half-scandalised whispering of the other guests. "I'm happy for you. Despite this meaning two more eligible princes taking themselves off the market," she sighed theatrically, still with her arms around him and by now Guillaume was getting a little short of breath.

Amedeo was clearly trying to suppress a grin at his husband's predicament but failed miserably. "If you don't mind, my lady, could you let my husband breathe again? I believe oxygen is a requirement for continued existence. Also," he looked around the room, "I think after you shocked half the guests in attendance, one of the grooms dying would be a bit much. They'd speculate you're taking revenge for him breaking up with you."

Theodora snorted but let Guillaume go, for which he was more than grateful as he imagined his lips had turned blue already, before turning to Amedeo. " _I_ was the one to break off that relationship, if anyone asks." She leaned up a little and kissed him on the cheek before grinning smugly and turning around to join her mother, who was still staring, more than just a little aghast. Guillaume just hoped she'd snap out of it, the Queen of the Hellenes having an apoplexy at his wedding because of her headstrong daughter was not how he had imagined this day to be.

He looked around and decided with the party essentially having started out like this already, half-hearted attempts to do it in a proper way were doomed to fail anyway. Exchanging a glance with Amedeo told him that he was thinking along the same lines, so Guillaume cleared his throat loud enough for everyone to hear. "Dear family and friends, honoured neighbours, representatives of the press. While this is a wedding reception, the esteemed Princess Theodora - who incidentally is still in need of a husband so eligible bachelors, please line up - has just reminded us, this is more a celebration than anything else. So please, enjoy the rest of the day." He saw Andrea and William almost cracking up at that while he raised a glass that had been handed to him by a hovering waiter and toasted to his guests.

Theodora glowered at him in a way that made him wonder whether she had already made plans on how to end his life in the most excruciatingly slow and painful way imaginable, but Queen Anne-Marie at least looked quite pleased. There was probably no way to make everyone equally happy, he consoled himself.

Toasts from his father, in his capacity as Grand Duke and reigning monarch, as well as from Félix and Philippe as the witnesses followed. Dinner would be served later, in contrast to traditional weddings to mark exactly that difference. Although in hindsight, considering how little both of them had eaten today, this was about to come and haunt them, with all these toasts and alcohol.

Amedeo and Guillaume had briefly discussed what to do about the opening dance, but had not come to any conclusion; they were saved by having to figure it out on the spot by their sisters, who each requisitioned of one of them and claimed the first dance. That made things easier on the one hand, on the other it made them available to all and any women who wanted a dance with the groom.

And those were not too few.

"You look like you could need a break," Victoria remarked as he led her through the third or fourth waltz he was dancing already.

He smiled at her and knew she would understand more than most of the other women present tonight. "I could use some time with my husband. I don't think we've exchanged more than ten words since the ceremony."

Looking around he spotted Amedeo in conversation with Astrid, which surprised him enough that he almost missed the next step, which had Victoria look into the same direction as well, minutely tightening her touch on his shoulder. "Problems?" When he shot her a surprised look, she shrugged. "It's not a secret, Guillaume. Anything we can do to help?"

"Not acutely, I fear," he answered and knew his smile was a little morose. He spotted Carl Philip a little ways off the dance floor talking to Prince Daniel, Victoria's husband, he sighed and took it as a hint. "Want a spin with your husband? Deposit me with your brother, I have to talk to him anyway."

She looked at him with more than just a little scrutiny but seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt, so she just nodded and they made their way, careful not to hinder any of the other dancers, to the side. When she had left with her husband in tow, Guillaume collected a glass of wine from a passing waiter and turned towards her brother. "Thank you for coming."

To his credit, Carl Philip didn't look like he would take to flight right away when Guillaume stepped into his general vincinity, although there was still a faint expression in his eyes, like a rabbit staring at a snake. "Thank Queen Elizabeth, she's the one assigning duties like this. But I guess Wills would have insisted we come anyway, so you're welcome."

Oh no, please not still. Guillaume sighed into his wine; he'd thought they were over this. "And you would not have?"

Carl Philip exhaled sharply in a sound of disbelief. "You don't think _I_ would seriously try to defy the Queen of England? Do you know how scary she is?" He could only shake his head, he sipped at his champagne. "How are you holding up?"

"I'd be better if Amedeo was here instead of him and his mother giving each other the silent treatment," he answered honestly and could spot the two of them quite easily. "Where's William?"

Carl Philip just shrugged, actually turning to look at him this time. "Doing arcane things with Andrea. Somewhere. They're bound to show up again."

Curious. The unconcerned tone in which the other man said this surprised Guillaume, after all Carl Philip had spent many years trying to stay as far away from Guillaume as possible. But Andrea, whom Guillaume had flagged as overly friendly for almost the same length of time, didn't seem to present any kind of problem to the Swedish prince. Much to the contrary, if Guillaume's observations of the past few meetings were any indication. But it also went to show how close-knit the friendship between these three men had to be. Definitely something to consider.

"Rumpelstilskin?" Carl Philip added with a smirk, hinting at the toast Félix had made and Guillaume was hard pressed not to bury his face in his hands.

"I'm only adopting his first born as my heir. Between my siblings and my nephews, I don't have any need to change diapers on a long term basis at the moment, thank you." Félix had said a few things earlier that puzzled Guillaume, but he hadn't had time to inquire further. Maybe he should, on another day.

The other man made an affirmative sound. "I know what you mean."

They fell silent and Carl Philip was obviously starting to look for somewhere else to be, if the weight shifting and furtive glances were any indication. Guillaume realised with a start that this was probably his last opportunity, before it became impossible to bring this topic up again, to say something he should probably have said years ago. Well, he had tried years ago but that attempt had fallen on deaf years. "Listen, Carl Philip..."

That got the man's attention back, although he was still scanning the other guests, maybe looking for William. "Hm?"

Guillaume sighed. "I've been meaning to say this for a while already, but we never seemed to hit on the right opportunity...and when I tried it didn't work out because you weren't speaking to me, so all this time passed and-"

"Guillaume, you're rambling," Carl Philip pointed out and took his empty glass from him. "Easy on the wine there, we haven't had dinner yet. There's no point in keeling over, trust me. I've been to two British weddings, they're harder celebratory drinkers than even the Swedes," he added with a grin.

The man was right - on both accounts, although Guillaume was more concerned about the former. Mette-Marit had pointed out to him years ago that he was a little too talkative after too much alcohol on an empty stomach. He reigned himself in and fixed his eyes on the man in front of him. "I'm sorry about what happened all those years ago during that state visit. It was clumsy and I probably should have apologised within a day or two but I missed the opportunity and that's why a decade has passed." When silence stretched between them, he got increasingly nervous. "Carl Philip?" he prompted.

"We're here now, aren't we?" the other man asked eventually.

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever contribution that's had, we're here now. You're married, I'm married; both of us have found someone important enough to us to risk quite a bit of negative publicity. You must be aware that neither of us has weathered this until Wills' and your heirs are both old enough to have given people an idea of what they're dealing with? This still holds potential for disaster." Carl Philip might be more aware of the given implications than he might be given credit for, Guillaume suddenly realised. But then, he'd had relationship practise in the open with William for years before their marriage, that was bound to have burned the consequences into his mind for good. Hence, Guillaume just nodded cautiously, but the other man just shrugged in response and grinned as he spotted William and Andrea making their way towards them, towering over most of the crowd. "Forget what happened, Guillaume. We have more important matters to take care of now."

Guillaume blinked. "William told you to say that, right?"

Carl Philip's grin widened. "He might have. But he's right and all of us have come too far and it's been more than ten years. Besides, now you're diverting some of the press, that alone is worth quite a bit to me."

William and Andrea arrived just when he had finished speaking, each with a flute of champagne in their hand, and William kissed his husband lightly on the lips before shaking hands with Guillaume. "Congratulations. I guess mine are nothing against Theodora, but that's her for you. And I'm not sure how fond you'd be about me smothering you to death with my inadequate bosom."

Guillaume blinked at that, not quite sure what he should say and settled for a simple, "Thank you."

Andrea shook his hand as well, thankfully without kissing anyone. This time. "From me as well, congratulations. Where's your husband?"

"Occupied with family matters," Guillaume tried to explain it diplomatically but he saw Carl Philip grimace at that and knew that he, at least, had caught on to what was going on. Small wonder, Astrid was one of his cousins as well, he'd know, and Victoria had said something to that effect earlier, after all. And if Carl Philip knew, William did as well, although he was better at keeping his emotions from showing on his face. Which left Andrea, but he really wasn't up to discussing his family problems with Andrea Casiraghi on his wedding day.

But Andrea wasn't dumb and seemed to do the math, veering away from the topic again. "I see. Greetings from my uncle, mother and Tatiana. I sure hope this is the last gay wedding I have to attend for a while, people might start to whisper."

"Stop talking like that, you asked for this one," William shot at his friend. "And besides, if you finally let Tatiana make an honest man of you, nobody would whisper."

"That would go against the family way," Andrea grinned and Guillaume was sure he didn't want to know what _exactly_ that was supposed to mean. "And I might have asked to go. This was bound to be too interesting to pass up, after all, and it's not like everyone comes to visit quite regularly enough. Oh hey, Guillaume look, here's your Habsburg!"

Guillaume turned around, not before glaring at Andrea, and saw Amedeo threading his way towards them, a sad little smile appearing on his face when their eyes met. Clearly, the talk with Astrid had not gone as well as he'd hoped. When he joined them, he wordlessly bent down and kissed Guillaume, in a fashion that was not at all suited for two royals - even newly wed ones - in the semi-public, but Guillaume could feel that this was what Amedeo needed right now and if he could have, he'd have wound his arms around Amedeo's neck and just held on. But under the circumstances that just wasn't possible, so he let the kiss go on for a moment, one hand pressed against Amedeo's chest, the other cradling his face, before breaking it under murmurs of "get a room, boys" from the men who Amedeo claimed were supposed to be their friends.

"Okay?" he whispered when Amedeo rested their foreheads together briefly.

His husband nodded. "Will be." He then straightened again and greeted the others, congratulations and thanks went around once more before they settled into a conversation that was a little one sided, because Guillaume was focused on Amedeo and Amedeo was clearly trying not to let go of him.

"Should we leave? Give you some space?" Andrea finally inquired of him and Guillaume looked up, but it was Amedeo who answered.

"No, no. Please, stay. No one will bother us as long as we're with _the other gay couple_ \- sorry Andrea - and I really could use a few quiet minutes now." His smile had turned a little less sad, a little more genuine, but Guillaume knew the talk with his mother had perturbed him.

It was a few minutes later when Andrea tried to get his attention again by reaching out and lightly touching his forearm. He frowned. That man definitely was too friendly for his tastes. "Guillaume, can I talk to you for a bit?"

"Now?" He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Just go, I'll have William and Carl entertain me," Amedeo gave him a little shove but Guillaume wouldn't have that. He reached up, pulled his husband down by the nape of his neck and kissed him, if only lightly. Then he winked before he nodded at Andrea and they made their way even further to the side, where they wouldn't be overheard.

He just hoped this was important.

"So?" What could Andrea possibly want with him? If this was another attempt at being _friendly_ they just might end up in a row for sure.

But the Grimaldi heir just looked contemplative. "You know, when I first learned about Amedeo and you at Wills and Carl's wedding, I never would have imagined you would suit each other so well. You're so opposite in character."

And if that wasn't jarring, Guillaume didn't know what was. He had to take a sip of the water Carl Philip had pressed into his hands a while ago before he could speak, his mouth suddenly dry. "You've known about us since that wedding?"

"I put a few vital pieces of information I had received together and arrived at the correct conclusion. Don't worry, no one else - except Theodora - knew the full extent, you were quite safe the whole time. I have no reason to want to hurt you or Amedeo, and fun can only go so far." Andrea smiled reassuringly, but Guillaume couldn't shake the feeling that this could have blown up in their faces at any point. And what was more, he was coming to believe that getting on Andrea's bad side was not a very good idea. "You would have had everyone's support much sooner, had you said anything."

"You seem to be close enough friends with William and Carl Philip that you should know this wasn't an easy matter for us." Guillaume was annoyed, because why did he have to bring that up now? It was done, they were, as Carl Philip had put it so aptly, here now and there were other things to focus on. "Is that all?" That had been important enough to pull him away from Amedeo at a time like this?

"Calm down, Guillaume. There was a lesson to be learned and you finally seem to have reached the right conclusion. And Wills and Carl are dear to me. They're friends, and you could be, too." Andrea's usual easy grin was replaced by a quite serious gaze. "To get to the point, you need to talk to your brother."

"What?" Guillaume was puzzled at the sudden change of topic, enough to reserve comments on offers of friendship of _that_ kind for later. "Which one?"

"Félix. And you should talk to him, unless you want your heir born out of wedlock. I suppose previous precedent shows that even your succession laws could not compensate for that." Andrea had tuned his voice down and Guillaume didn't know what should worry him more, that the man knew so much about the Luxembourgian succession or that he seemed to be aware of something Guillaume wasn't.

"You know that our brothers have become friends?" Andrea asked, obviously having picked up on his confusion. Guillaume nodded, still not quite sure what the man was getting at and also still not certain he liked the fact that Félix and Pierre were spending so much time together. Then again, Pierre Casiraghi was probably still the saner choice when compared to the Italian parts of their own family. "I would have told you sooner but I've only heard two days ago myself. It seems Félix' girlfriend invited Beatrice for a shopping tour, and Pierre was more than a bit worried when she came home with only a pair of baby shoes. Beatrice laughed it off and told him he was silly, but-"

"You know why Félix called me Rumpelstilskin?" Guillaume interrupted, suddenly cold with the realisation what Andrea was getting at.

"I know the fairytale," Andrea answered cautiously, frowning.

Guillaume sighed. "He's been calling me that ever since Christmas, when he was at Berg. I guess he knows that once he starts a family, he will have to come home from Italy for good and it's not sitting well with him. Not that I could blame him for valuing his independence and the fact that no one knows him for who he is down there."

"What luxury." There was a smile in that voice, even though it didn't show on his face and Guillaume could understand. Within Europe, Andrea - being an only semi-willing part of the jet set - was recognised whether he cared to or not and only the fact that they didn't care let him and Tatiana go about their business. Guillaume and his siblings had it easier; one step over the border into Germany or France and hardly anyone knew them. The benefit of Luxembourg being small and not a gathering place for socialites, although with the added publicity due to his relationship with Amedeo, that advantage was slowly vanishing.

"Indeed. But if she's already buying baby clothes..." He left that standing there. Their parents would rip Félix' head off, if this turned out like the mess with Louis. Tessy was an angel, but their parents had sat all of them down after that and had a long, detailed talk with them and Félix, of all people, would be aware of the ramifications, especially now.

"It doesn't have to mean anything other than her having a look around," Andrea tried to qualify his earlier statement.

But Guillaume could only shake his head. "My brother...has been dropping hints. At least I think so and with what you're saying, well. Thank you, Andrea."

Making their way back slowly to where Andrea said he'd spotted William, he spoke up once more. "Guillaume, I'm aware this is not how our parents are handling matters, or any of our ancestors did, but the time when royalty had any kind of function beyond representation and a display of unity is over for most states. You need to learn to rely on us, we can help."

He threw Andrea a long look while threading through the crowd of people, most of whom had already congratulated him and were now only smiling, and saw that for once there was no amusement mirrored on the man's face. Nothing of his usual easy air. "I'll keep it in mind," he answered after several unsuccessul attempts at finding his voice.

"You do that. I expect you to act accordingly." And then they had arrived where they had left William and Carl Philip with Amedeo, but there was no sign of Guillaume's husband anywhere.

"Màxima and Mette-Marit ambushed us and dragged him off for dancing," William explained with a grin and nodded towards the dance floor. "Consider it a show of support." Which they probably needed badly if the dark looks Astrid was shooting their way whenever she deigned to look at them at all were any indication, and it didn't surprise him in any way that William had picked up on it.

"They don't ever want me for dancing any more," Carl Philip sighed with a heavily exaggerated sigh and William slung his arm around his husband's waist to let his hand come to rest on his hip a little possessively.

"The novelty will wear off, darling, then you'll have them back," he responded in all seriousness. Carl Philip was less successful at play acting and almost burst out laughing, then leaned up, cupped his husband's face one-handedly and dropped a lingering kiss on William's lips.

"Clearly, you've never had to attend partner program with Màxima," he pointed out and repeated the kiss.

A sigh from Andrea drew Guillaume's attention away. "Okay, now I'm officially jealous of them."

Guillaume laughed. "What am I supposed to say? My newly-wed husband has been confiscated by two blond crown princesses and I can't be sure when I'll see him again."

"Maybe you can have a talk with your brother in the meantime," Andrea suddenly suggested and used his newly acquired glass to point at Félix, who was just dropping off the dance floor together with their sister.

"Excuse me." Guillaume surprised himself and reached out in what felt like an almost automatic gesture and patted Andrea's lower arm in a friendly manner. He received three mildly astonished glances but didn't have time to think of what they meant. His brother was looking around as if looking for someone, but Guillaume had to preempt him finding them. "Félix!"

~*~

Hours later, it was more early morning than late at night, in the car on the way back home and finally - finally - alone with Amedeo for once that evening, Guillaume relayed what had passed between his brother and him. "And when I confronted him with what Pierre had told Andrea, he had the gall to try to placate me! 'Don't worry, big bro, everything is already taken care of, you needn't worry.' Needn't worry! As if his girlfriend being pregnant were no big matter at all." He wasn't drunk and he felt he should be. After his whole family had conspired against him. Well, his parents and Félix, but that was significant enough already, and he would have every reason to be drunk off his feet.

"Was that all he said?" Amedeo wanted to know and leaned forward to take his hand. With the confines of the fond of the car and the seatbelts, there really was not much more they could do right now.

"Of course not. I asked what he meant and he said, 'oh, the only thing still outstanding is the religious ceremony, we had the legal one several weeks ago; Amedeo I almost strangled him! If he gets married without asking for and receiving consent, he excludes himself from the succession and we are right where we started!" That had been one messed up conversation and his brother had obviously enjoyed it to no end.

"He must be aware of that," Amedeo tried to soothe him and caressed Guillaume's hand between both of his.

"How could he not? 'Paps took care of everything for me,' he said. 'Why do you think he and mama visited a little while ago?' Just like that. Can you imagine it? My parents, my brother... and no one said anything." Amedeo was still holding his hand and Guillaume tightened his own grip now with grim determination. To do what he wasn't sure, though. Slug Félix, next time he saw him, that was certain.

"Okay, that's... But that's good, isn't it? You can relax now."

"Amedeo, she's almost four months along already. By the time they get a ceremony scheduled she'll be six or even seven and it will definitely be visible. How do you think people will react?"

"How did they react when Louis and Tessy were married and had Gabriel with them when they came out of the church?" Amedeo had a point. Louis, unlike Félix now, had not been heir presumptive though, but fact was that this child would be born well within the frames of legitimacy; for all Guillaume knew it could even have been conceived within that, as their parents had been in Italy several times within the last few months. These visits now appeared in a whole different light, of course. The little bastard.

"We were somewhat busy these last few months," Amedeo pointed out reasonably, and of course he was right; between their settling in together and their common and separate appointments as well as their few outings to just get away from everything, there had not been a lot of breathing space to care about other things. Guillaume had felt guilty enough about that, he hardly knew how Sébastien was doing at school these days or if Alexandra had settled into her new flat okay.

"We were, yes," he sighed he pulled Amedeo's hand to him to drop a kiss on it. "I'll be happy to be home so we can finally settle into something resembling normality." After their two-week-honeymoon at Lake Geneva, where it was quiet and even if someone recognised them, no one would care.

Amedeo let that sit a while before retrieving their hands and settling them comfortably in his lap. "It was good of you to talk with Andrea. He really is a good chap, he just likes to tease."

Guillaume threw his husband a long look in the darkness. "Did you know he knew about us since William's wedding?"

There was just the slightest hesitation before the answer came, that told Guillaume more than he probably wanted to know. "Yes, he asked me about it pretty directly. I could hardly lie, could I?"

"How well did you know Andrea before?" Not that Guillaume suspected anything had been going on there at any given point, the Grimaldi heir was too devoted to Tatiana, and anyway, he thought all Habsburgs were nuts. But the answer was interesting nonetheless.

Amedeo just shook his head. "Before Harry's wedding I only saw him a few times, knew him by name - and of course reputation - but nothing more. Same for him, I guess. We've never had a heart to heart or anything, I just figure he's extending goodwill to us by extension of Wills and Carl. Why?"

"I was just thinking," Guillaume said and tried to make out details by the roadside, but despite the route having been familiar all his life already, he couldn't quite tell where they were. But he was exhausted, tired and his feet hurt. He wanted to be in bed with Amedeo and he had wanted that hours ago already, before they had been ushered out by William and Carl Philip. That alone was suspicious for some reason. Not like the heir to the British crown and his husband would do the tidying up for the palace staff. "I was never on splendid terms with Andrea, much to the contrary for a long time, you say you weren't especially close friends with him either. And yet he kept quiet about us, has been supporting us - albeit not publicly, but how should he - and has been so... _nice_ this past half year. Did I miss anything that happened?"

"Maybe he just likes you?"

Guillaume threw his husband a look that he hoped spoke volumes.

"Why is it so hard for you to understand people may be nice to you because they genuinely like you? It works with Mette-Marit and Haakon, why is it so hard to accept with Andrea?" Amedeo sighed and returned the long look. "What happened between you?"

When Guillaume didn't say anything - because it was complicated and not something he wanted Amedeo to know if he could somehow avoid it - Amedeo groaned in exasperation and shook his head.

"Look, love... I'm not saying Andrea is doing it out of the goodness of his heart alone; given that the Grimaldis aren't as well received, he certainly can use the connection to Wills and Carl as well as to us. And whatever it is that did happen between you, he doesn't seem to hold a grudge about it, so you maybe you should drop your own reservations already and take the hand that's offered there. Perhaps Wills and Carl intervened on our behalf, but you know, gift horses and all that. And Andrea _is_ nice."

Guillaume considered this. "Those three are pretty close," he mused.

"You noticed?" Amedeo sounded surprised.

He nodded, but didn't want to comment on it. "Maybe you're right and it's time we at least started talking a bit. After all, he and I are both heirs to small countries."

"Why, thank you my dear. Be sure to praise me more once we're home and in bed. That is, if you're not too tired?" Amedeo grinned and leaned towards him as far as the seat belt allowed, expecting a kiss.

"I'll show you too tired," Guillaume growled and leaned in as well, meeting his husband halfway in a kiss that left much to be desired, but was all they could manage. He felt slightly guilty they were once more exposing their driver to quite intimate details of their relationship - then again, Jean Paul had driven Guillaume and his brothers for over fifteen years now, between Louis and Félix he had probably been witness to far more than this.

All Guillaume really wanted was to get Amedeo naked and into bed, he had been deprived of his husband all through the reception and this was their _wedding day_ , so he had a lot to make up for.

Matters didn't bode well, however, when they came to the front door of their apartment - truly theirs by right now that they were married, not just by the grace of Guillaume's father, the Grand Duke - and said door sported a huge poster.

  
_Dear big brothers, dear Guillaume and Amedeo,_

 _you didn't really think we'd let you get away this easily, did you?_

was written there in French, German, Lëtzebuergesch, Dutch and English, surrounded by signatures of both their siblings, but also by William and Carl Philip, Andrea, Pierre, Victoria, Theodora, Madeleine, Màxima, Mette-Marit and various other major and minor royals, mostly heirs to titles or their siblings. This didn't bode well at all.

He looked at Amedeo, who shrugged. "Do we dare enter or shall we get a hotel room?"

Guillaume snorted. "We're leaving for Geneva tomorrow and our luggage is in there. Not like we can escape it." So he squared his shoulders and pressed down on the latch. Maybe they needed to take to actually locking the door. No one in Berg Castle ever locked their door, because what was the point?

The question was, Guillaume mused as the door swung open and revealed their rooms, nothing seemed altered, whatever they had done, how had they done it? Certainly, there was plenty of time between the two of them leaving and the reception, and only the immediate family had attended the actual ceremony as that had filled the rooms to capacity already. But truth was, just one of his siblings playing along would have been enough. And he had not seen either Sébastien or Louis right before the ceremony while they were getting ready.

They explored the rooms and everything seemed normal, until they reached the bedroom door.

  
_Did you even know a key for this room existed? Well, if not, there is one. It only took a little bit of minor bribery to get to it, too. You will find it in the bathroom. ___  


Again in all five languages and with a huge smiley drawn at the bottom. "Amedeo?" Guillaume asked without actually looking at his husband as he turned towards the bathroom, wishing the bath was only accessible through the bedroom.

"Yes, love?"

"Take a good look at whatever is awaiting us. This is what you get for being far too close with everyone in your peer group." That wasn't true of course, and he knew that Amedeo knew. Between them, they had seven more or less grown up siblings and anyone of them could have cooked this one up - Guillaume remembered too much mischief from their childhood to be under any kind of illusion.

There was another poster on the bathroom door:

  
_Happy Fishing, Boys_   


"Are you worried, too?" Amedeo asked from beside him, as neither of them dared open the door.

"Actually, I'm a little scared. Nothing good can come of this," he answered but wasn't prepared for the sight of his bathtub when he finally did open the door.

Filled with something red, slimy and watery and blown up condoms, his bathtub looked like straight out of a horror movie. Well, save for the multi-coloured condoms and the fact that Guillaume knew it couldn't be blood.

"What the-?"

Amedeo stepped up to the tub and eyed the mass critically. "You won't believe this, but I think it's watered down jelly."

Guillaume groaned and took the two strides inside to the tub as well. "And let me guess, the key is in one of those?" He pointed at the condoms, floating in the more-or-less liquid mass, some on top, some well beneath the surface as if weighted down.

"That stands to be expected," Amedeo reasoned and gingerly picked up one of the condoms, but it fell right back into the tub with a wet sound. "Woah those are slippery." Guillaume raised both eyebrows at him at the ambiguity and Amedeo grinned. "I almost think this is going to be fun. Do you have a needle?"

"Hold on." Whatever Amedeo thought to be fun, _they_ were the ones who would have to clean up afterwards. But Guillaume knew he didn't have much of a choice, so he retrieved a needle from the sewing kit he kept in the study - after all, sewing on buttons and darning tears was one of the first things you learned, quite painfully, as a new recruit - and returned to the bathroom.

Amedeo, meanwhile, had picked up one of the condoms and looked at it more closely. "There's something in there." He shook it experimentally and something metallic clinked. It would be too good to find the key at first try so Guillaume didn't dare hope, but waited until his husband held out the 'balloon' again and struck with the needle.

The condom burst apart, showering Amedeo head to toe in shaving cream and small change cluttered to the floor. Lord, these people calling themselves friends and relatives, they were evil. Amedeo grinned madly at him, laughing after the second condom showered him in toothpaste and Guillaume couldn't help laughing either. Soon they both were white all over, plastered with shaving cream and toothpaste and having to be careful not to slip and fall on the wet and soapy floor.

Of course, the key was only in the second to last condom they retrieved from the bottom of the tub, sealed in a water-tight plastic bag so at least they would have to clean that off. Unlike themselves.

"Any idea how to get this cleaned up?" Amedeo asked, looking at the mess the bathroom was in.

"Much as I hate to say it, I guess we should leave this one to the staff. They must have played along, _someone_ must have made these masses of jelly in the first place," Guillaume answered. "Get your robe, we're showering at Félix'."

Wet and sticky in an entirely too unpleasant way, their robes held as far away from them as possible, they made their way to Félix' rooms in the other part of the wing. When he opened his door, his mouth started twitching almost instantly and he burst out in uncontrollable laughter. To his credit, he just waved them in the direction of the bathroom, gasping, "If you have sex in my tub, next time we're drowning you in the jelly!"

They did shower, albeit separately and when he was alone with is brother he glowered at him. "Whose idea was that?"

"As if I would tell you. We're all in this together. Have you been in your bedroom already?" And just the tone of voice was enough to let all alarms go off in Guillaume's mind.

"Actually... we haven't. Anything we should know?"

But Félix only shrugged. "You'll see."

"Thanks for lending us your bathroom," Amedeo called as he stepped out. "And congratulations. You really should have let us known, I would have loved to see the bride all splendid and happy."

"You'll see her splendid and happy in a month or two when we're repeating it in a church. There's got to be one religious blessing this year, at least." He winked. "Now off with you, it's late. I have brought ear plugs so you won't keep me from my beauty sleep." With that, his brother ushered them out and Guillaume turned to Amedeo.

"There's more," he said, letting resignation colour his voice.

But Amedeo just shrugged and took his hand. "Of course there's more. They wouldn't have had so much fun with this if there wasn't more. Just be glad they didn't revert to the stealing of the bride, I don't know where the two of us would have ended up in the end. There's too much foreign royalty around. Lapland and the Balkans seem like viable options."

Guillaume sighed, interlinking their fingers. All of that was true, yet it didn't make him feel any better, for some reason.

His feeling of foreboding seemed to be confirmed when they finally did open their bedroom door.

The room was only illuminated by cleverly placed fairy lights, lending soft illumination to the room and picking out the various...highlights.

Their bed was decked out in scarily many pieces of equipment. There were handcuffs, a huge bottle of lube, a riding crop, several lengths of soft nylon rope, leather straps, silk scarves, blindfolds, massage oil... He refused to identify the rest.

"Guillaume?" Amedeo asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the array of toys.

"Yes?"

"I know we never quite discussed it, but how much do you think Wills and Carl know? Let alone Andrea?"

They looked at each other.

"No way," Guillaume said and picked up the lube. Expensive, high quality brand they didn't usually bother with. The cuffs not security issue but clearly safety cuffs.

Amedeo held the leather straps in his hands and looked contemplative. "Do you think they...?"

"Don't think it. If you don't think about it, it can't happen. Power of suggestion and all that."

Amedeo looked at him oddly, then carefully looped one of the silks carves around the back of his neck and pulled him in to lean down and bring their mouths together. Guillaume's lips opened beneath his husband's and he quickly enough forgot about the surprise their families and friends had prepared for them.

When they broke the kiss, Amedeo continued to nip down his jawline, over his throat and loosened the belt of Guillaume's robe. "I have an idea," he said, voice roughly not before seeking out the spot where neck joined shoulder and definitely leaving a hickey. Guillaume just moaned appreciatively.

"Do you?" He tried to make a grab for Amedeo's robe, but was too slow and his husband sidestepped him, picked up another silk scarf and a blindfold, then proceeded to shove everything else off the bed. There was a metallic click as the cuffs clattered onto the wood and a muted thomp from the heavy rope and leather.

"Oh yes. I'm the groom and you stole me away from my own wedding to have your wicked way with me." He dangled the blind fold. "And you need to keep me from seeing and from struggling, but you don't care how much I yell and scream, because you've brought me somewhere sound proof."

Guillaume swallowed and stepped up to take the blindfold from Amedeo, who sat down to allow him to fasten it around his head. "Want to get away, do you?" he growled in his best villain-imitation. "Guess we'll have to do something about that." He basically ripped away the robe before pushing Amedeo roughly backwards onto the bed. The illusion wasn't spoiled in the least by him going quite willingly, and Guillaume quickly climbed after him, to fasten Amedeo's hands to the bed posts with the silk scarves.

Not for the first time, he was glad they had decided to keep Amedeo's bed.

"Please, good sir, bring me back to my husband. I swear I have not seen a thing and won't tell on you," Amedeo pleaded, but was unable to keep a straight face and smirked. "Although I'm sure you're a bomb in the sack, but I just married my husband and I'd like to go back to him."

"Oh, I don't think so," Guillaume whispered back roughly and nipped sharply at the cartilage of Amedeo's right ear. His husband gave a quiet yelp of surprise and pulled a little at the bonds. And whispering into the other ear, before nipping at the soft skin behind it, "I've brought you here, now I will have you."

Dragging his short nails down Amedeo's chest, Guillaume could watch goosebumps rise in his wake and if that delicious shiver that followed wasn't arousing, he didn't know what was. He let the motion drag on over Amedeo's hip and inner thigh and when the only coherency to be heard from him was a whimper, Guillaume bent down for a deep kiss that left them both breathless.

"You kiss almost as good as my husband," Amedeo panted when they broke apart and Guillaume growled and kissed him again, just to shut him up. The other man squirmed beneath him, seeking contact in the few ways left to him without sight and free reach of his arms.

"You husband is a lucky man," Guillaume remarked offhandedly as he retrieved the bottle of lube from where he had dropped it at the foot of the large bed and removed the seal.

Amedeo grinned. "Oh, he is. And I'm lucky to have him. Right now though..." he trailed off and thrust his hips into the air, seeking contact and attention, and Guillaume more or less automatically reached out his hand to touch and caress. Amedeo sighed happily, not quite able to hold up the act, but Guillaume didn't care too much for it anyway. He never could switch completely from reality to fiction, which could be annoying but at least eliminated the need for a safeword.

Popping the cap off the bottle, he squirted some of the liquid onto his hand. Judging by his slightly raised head, Amedeo had recognised the sound as well and his tugging at the bonds got more insistent. Guillaume would need to have an eye on that, he didn't want Amedeo to hurt himself, which was entirely possible even with the soft fabric, but he also knew that this was part of the pleasure.

He placed his non-lube coated hand on Amedeo's chest to calm him down, then thought better of it and replaced his hand by light kisses, which made Amedeo squirm, but not as badly, as he tried to feel every little touch of lips to skin. It was long minutes before Guillaume finally reached out with his wet hand and soon after they shared whispered promises between kisses and moans.

It was probably a good thing Félix had brought ear plugs, because Guillaume knew for certain that elsewise, he'd never get a whiff of sleep this night.

And he also knew they'd have to repack their luggage in the morning. With all these gifts, the two weeks ahead of them where bound to be more than just entertaining.

~*~

Guillaume sat on the balcony of their guest room in the Princely Palace of Monaco, his feet elevated on a footstool, and a cup of coffee in his hands. It was early in the morning on the last day of a weekend visit to the principality, and even this far south there was a noticeable chill in the air, especially as it had rained at night. But Guillaume didn't mind, he had a hot cup of coffee from his travel French press - he had to resort to bringing his own supplies because his husband and the people who called themselves his friends insisted he have breakfast with him, and no one here bothered to roll out of bed before half the morning was over already - and one of Amedeo's jumpers draped over his shoulders, looking out over a good part of the Rocher de Monaco.

The calender on his phone told him they had a flight scheduled out of Nice at two in the afternoon and he had no appointments that day. Amedeo's doing, no doubt. For once he didn't mind, though, he'd pulled three all-nighters in the past week and could use the change of scenery away from meetings and matters of state. He'd never admit to it out loud, but there were times when he felt it was all going over his head, and a day in the sun with company who were more interested in dunking him during water-volleyball than if his neck tie was crooked and why helped pull him back to reality, on most occasions. He didn't remember anymore if it had been quite this bad when Amedeo hadn't been living with him, or if he'd just worked longer hours with less distractions.

Not that he would give Amedeo up for anything in the world.

Guillaume almost didn't miss smoking anymore

His husband had grumbled in his sleep when the wafts of the coffee smell had reached him, but after all these years that was not something he woke up to. Too much of a routine in Guillaume's habits, he supposed, and had just kissed Amedeo on the cheek and let him sleep on.

This couldn't go on forever, he knew. Andrea was about to become the Prince of Monaco rather sooner than later; he had told them about suddenly being drawn into governmental meetings earlier that summer already, and at that point at the latest, things would change drastically. Amedeo might not know it, but this tenuous friendship that might have developed would break under the strain and the lack of time and possible opportunities. Even William and Carl Philip, close as they might be to the Grimaldi heir now, would have to come to terms with this eventually.

Guillaume wouldn't be surprised if even William weren't aware of that; the man might be destined to to be King of England, but he'd have to wait a long time to come into his power. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too upset to suddenly find himself as the sole heir in waiting, with many of his now existing routines and contacts all but cut off.

Emotional investments which only returned heartache were rather pointless, he figured, but the others would find that out soon enough. No need pushing their noses in now, when everyone seemed to have achieved a state of something bordering equilibrium that worked for them. After all, most of the time the arrangement worked for him, too, as long as Amedeo didn't insist in getting too mixed up in other people's private lives. Guillaume didn't mind doing Andrea the favour of showing up at one official function or other - if it helped to build a foundation for his future rule no less, Monaco needed political soundness and stability rather badly - but he still didn't want to know what went on between the Monegasque-Anglo-Swedish trio when his own back was turned. Especially as Andrea seemed to be the only royal within their peer group who never got told off for coming closer than arm's length. And he did that quite often.

He drank the last of his coffee and crunched down on the powder that had slipped through the sieve. There was something to be said about these quiet mornings, as they offered time and opportunity to think outside the box. At home things were rushed more often than not and when they visited elsewhere, there usually was someone awake already to spend the time with, but here it was different. The flair of Monaco.

The thought made him smile, because it also was connected to days at the beach, swimming in the sea and official functions without a strict dress code. It wasn't that Guillaume was completely unaffected, if he was honest with himself, he didn't dislike any of the others. After more than ten years, Carl Philip was not running for the nearest border when he showed up, William was a pleasant enough conversationalist despite the bullying about his workload, and while Andrea was still being too friendly for his tastes, he seemed to actually possess a brain and knew what he was doing. They all were likeable. Which made keeping his distance rather hard sometimes, and there had been many occasions when Guillaume had caught himself at giving up on it completely.

It couldn't be for the best, of course, but with Amedeo acting the way he did, it was getting harder to keep things as they had been. His only solace, if it should be called that, was he could tell himself he knew from the start when things would start to break down. Which probably wouldn't do anything to make it easier for himself, or for Amedeo for that matter, when it was time. Sighing, he looked up when he heard quiet shuffling behind him and a kiss was dropped onto his head.

"It's an ungodly hour to be up," Amedeo murmured and shoved his feet to the floor and dropped down on the footstool. "Can't you have a lie in for once?"

"Habit," he answered quietly and leaned forward to drape the jumper around Amedeo, kissing him quickly on the movement back. "Coffee?"

"Nah, I'm waiting for breakfast, you addict. Come back to bed?" Maybe Amedeo wasn't as tired anymore as Guillaume had assumed, the tone was rather suggestive. His gaze slid past Amedeo for a second, back to the scenery, before he let himself be taken by the hand and dragged up and back into their rooms.

His husband pushed him impatiently back on the bed, pounced him and they both had to laugh when the mattress springing back almost landed both of them on the floor. Laughter melted into kisses and roaming hands nd Guillaume had to admit, this was a better way to spend the time until breakfast than quiet contemplations on the balcony.

Amedeo nibbled at his throat, not enough to leave a mark and Guillaume moaned when fingers ghosted over the inside of his thigh, firm enough to arouse and not tickle. "What were you doing out there?" Amedeo murmured into his skin, laving at the stubble on his throat.

"Just," Guillaume panted, "just thinking."

"What about?" Kisses and soft nips trailed down his throat and over his collar bone.

Most of his brain was occupied with his growing arousal, but a tiny spark of reason told him it would not be a good idea to disclose the whole truth right now, so he opted for a tiny part of it. "That it's good, being here."

Lifting his head, Amedeo beamed at him. "It is, isn't it? It's moral support for a friend and we're getting a mini-holiday out of it as well, an opportunity to relax after this hellish week."

Guillaume would have said something, but instead he just took Amedeo's head between his hands and pulled him down for a long kiss, before digging out the lube bottle.

Later, William grinned at him over the breakfast table. "Forgot to close the window, did you?"

Mortified, Guillaume tried to remember if he had closed the door to the balcony. When he couldn't recall doing so, he glared at Amedeo, who looked like innocence personified. He swallowed, opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and was rescued by Andrea - of all people - who hooked an arm around William from behind.

"As if the two of you were any better," he drawled in amusement and pecked both him and Carl Philip next to him on the cheek. "Good to know everyone's enjoying themselves, what would be the point of a beach weekend if not?" He winked at Guillaume, who was hard pressed not to bury his face in his hands when Amedeo rested his hand possessively on his knee.

"Maybe we should change the topic before Guillaume's wish comes true and the earth opens up to swallow him whole," Tatiana remarked and ruffled through his hair when she passed behind them the same way she usually did with Amedeo. She went up to her boyfriend and Guillaume wasn't sure that morning kiss was safe for public consumption, but at least it pulled everyone's attention away from his rapidly heating face. "Wills, I'm in London next week, I expect you make some time and an invite me for tea, or something."

"To the palace?" William asked with both eyebrows raised. Even Guillaume knew neither Andrea nor Tatiana particularly liked being in Clarence House, the looks the Prince of Wales were giving them were nasty at best.

"And where would be the fun in that?" she returned. "The press will make somersaults."

"That's your whole point, isn't it?" Carl Philip wanted to know, looking across at her, eyes amused.

She grinned. "Of course. You're lending him to me, aren't you?"

Carl Philip seemed to consider this. "For making the assembled gutter press look like a bunch of fools? Naturally."

The banter kept up, but Guillaume was distracted by Andrea kicking him under the table. Both eyebrows raised, he looked at the other man. "Relax," Andrea admonished quietly, and although Amedeo seemed engaged in the discussion across from them, the hold on Guillaume's knee tightened as if to encourage him to follow the gentle command. Then, even quieter, Andrea added, "Goodness Guillaume, if this posture keeps up, I really will have to stage an intervention with you one day and how will it look if the Prince of Monaco abducts the Grand Duke of Luxembourg?"

The only response he could drag up when Andrea frowned was a half-smile and a shake of his head. One thing was true, in this company, no one would ever have to worry about leaks to the press, invaluable considering how overly interested they seemed in his private life ever since the marriage announcement.

"My friends are idiots," Andrea muttered with a heavy sigh and reached for the honey jar.

~*~

One of the major drawbacks of being a working royal, with a schedule often set months in advance, was the fact that it wasn't easy to be spontaneous.

They had been married for almost exactly one year now and Amedeo had gone to certain lengths and schedule arrangements to make certain they attended every single function there was that would bring them even only potentially into contact with the other heirs. Not that Guillaume minded all that much, he'd always been on good enough terms with most of them. But whenever he met William and Carl Philip or Andrea and Tatiana at these gatherings, he had to think of what they had said to him and how much of it was simply impossible.

They were not like normal people, who could simply decide to drop in on their friends on short or no notice, all of their appointments, even most of the ones private in nature, had to be pre-planned months in advance to make them happen. That meant they had to rely on occasions like state visits, functions or not-quite-as-important birthdays like this one to meet anyone. Even if he saw Máxima and Willem-Alexander, as they were not only family but also neighbours, on a more regular basis, it was the only opportunity that year to see the others where he wasn't expected to be the one hosting. They had celebrated Amedeo's 30th birthday earlier that year and Theodora had told him in no uncertain terms that she expected a full blown - if private - party by the end of it for his own 35th.

All of that _should_ have been true, yet Amedeo had made him take several weekends off for more private getaways, even during the winter months. They were turning into regular visitors to the Mediterranean and he wasn't sure what he was to think about that. A sigh escaped him, hidden behind a glass of wine.

"You look like you're about to ascend the scaffold," a familiar voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Where'd you leave Amedeo?"

Guillaume blinked and spotted Carl Philip and William standing right in front of him, looking slightly concerned. Those two were among the ones they had seen with quite a bit of regularity this past year - both in official capacity and privately - now that two countries shared the affliction of gay heirs to their crowns. "I was pondering birthday logistics, actually. Being five years apart does present certain drawbacks...every five years." He frowned. "He was dragged off by the birthday girl. I could hardly protest."

Carl Philip nodded sagely, probably knowing Máxima better than to have ever tried that, while William just gave a sound that might have been assent. "Well, at least despite the pair of you having hit the magic 30, no one is going to start pressuring you about children. Andrea can probably tell you all about it. Bea, too, if the dark scowls she shoots us when she thinks we aren't looking are any indication."

"Succession issues being what they are..." Guillaume agreed and raised an eyebrow at William's husband, who had started grinning during their exchange, but now just shrugged.

"I have four nieces and nephews, no one is looking at me to solve any succession issues," Carl Philip simply said.

"Not like you legitimately could," another voice remarked and Andrea came to an almost skidding stop next to them. "Hide me," he almost pleaded and tried to duck behind Carl Philip, which made for quite a comical picture.

"From what?" William asked, looking around while he dragged the Grimaldi heir up again, keeping a firm hold on his arm.

Andrea glanced into the direction he had come from and grabbed William around the waist in turn to put him between himself and what- or whoever he expected to be coming. "The wrath of the Viking. You're her cousin, she won't hurt you."

"Whatever did you do?" Carl Philip murmured into his wine, glancing around surreptitiously as well.

"Nothing! I just might have agreed with Willem-Alexander that she and her last filming partner would have made a pretty couple in real life as well. And she may have heard that," he licked his lips nervously.

"Didn't she play a princess in her last film?" William asked, frowning.

"...and the male lead character was a murderous prince, like the love child of Henry VIII and Jack the Ripper?" Carl Philip continued.

"She said she hated the guy," Guillaume told Andrea earnestly. If Theodora really had heard him saying that, maybe the his favourite comparison wasn't so far off this time. "Never acquire the ire of a valkyrie, it won't ever end well for you."

"Never agree with Willem-Alexander," Amedeo said from behind them and they all turned towards him. "He's great fun, but as his wife put it so aptly, een beetje dom." Amedeo pulled Guillaume closer by an arm around his waist, hand resting low on his hip, just seeking contact; doing this in public had become much easier in the past year, and with no press present at all, no one would have objected to more either. But Guillaume felt better restricting open displays of their love life to their time alone - or at least to much smaller circles.

"Don't just keep grinning, do something!" Andrea pleaded again and that was not a sight Guillaume got to see all that often.

William just shook his head and patted Andrea's hand resting on his belly. Guillaume found it curious that Carl Philip just looked on, doing nothing. "Sorry, mate, you're on your own there. If you had known Theodora growing up, you'd keep far far away from this one as well."

"Traitor," Andrea hissed, which made Carl Philip almost choke on his wine, for some reason. The Grimaldi heir let go of William then and stood with them properly.

"Tell you what," Carl Philip said after he had recovered his breath, "I'll sacrifice myself for you. I have sources telling me her little brother has taken up with a nice, quite royal lady from the Balkans. That should give you about an hour's worth of grace period and you can think of something to placate her with. It had better be good, though." He pulled William down by the nape of his neck and dropped a lingering kiss on his lips, before Carl Philip started to make his way, quite purposefully, towards the refreshment table, where he was sure to encounter Theodora sooner rather than later.

"How would he know that?" Guillaume wondered, but William only shook his head.

"His aunt married a Hohenzollern, they're the perfect sources for gossip" he answered absently a moment later and then turned towards Andrea and glowered. "If he doesn't come back, you're going to step in front of the press and tell them why."

"Sure!" Andrea called cheerfully. "Right after I figured out how to prevent her from strangling me. Just getting Queen Anne-Marie to focus on someone else isn't going to be enough, is it?"

"Forget it," all three of them said at the same time.

Andrea sighed heavily. "I knew it."

"You could let Tatiana explain to her that you're male, after all, and you can't do anything about your own stupidity," Amedeo suggested. "That seems to be general consensus among the members of the fair sex anyway."

That idea met with a horrified look from him. "And have them forge an alliance against me?"

Guillaume exchanged a look with Amedeo, who couldn't help but smirk. William regarded his friend before pointing out dryly, "And you think they haven't already done that against all of us?"

"So I'm doomed either way."

"Looks like it," Guillaume agreed, Amedeo nodding in his peripheral vision.

"Probably. But now that she knows Philippos might finally make an honest woman of someone, she might not kill you outright. Maybe she'll just torture you for a while," William said with a toothy smile, before patting Andrea on the shoulder and sending him off to find his girlfriend. The three of them were quietly smiling to themselves for a moment before William started looking around, clearly looking for someone.

"You're not really worried, are you?" Guillaume frowned. Theodora _could_ be scary, but she'd never done anything to anyone so far. Or at least no one had lived to talk about it.

William threw him a glance, but shook his head. "If you're within two or three degrees of relation you're quite safe. Except for Philippos, but that's more a matter of pecking order than anything else. I need to talk to Vicky about a visit she, Daniel and the children are planning that Carl doesn't know about. Sort of a late birthday surprise, you know? And now that Carl is- Ah. Excuse me." He took off, quickly threading his way through the people gathered around them, probably into the direction where he had spotted his sister-in-law and her husband.

"Do you think they'll make it?" Guillaume asked Amedeo and moved out of his half-embrace, but threaded their fingers together to pull his husband along and make their own way towards the other side of the refreshment table. He needed something more to drink and maybe one of those mini-quiches placed on platters all along that table.

When Amedeo didn't answer immediately, Guillaume turned around to throw a look at him and found his husband frowning at him in what might have been criticism, but which resolved itself quickly enough in a shake of his head. "We'll all come out on top, love. The opposite isn't an option, for one. And with friends like these-"

"Who needs enemies?" he tried a joke but the comment only earned him a dark glower from Amedeo, followed by a quick glance around before his husband pulled him in to deliver a sharp nip to his lower lip.

"What's it you always say? Behave. Everyone's been doing us huge favours these past one and a half years and-"

Guillaume silenced him by quickly drawing him down again and pressing their mouth together for a lingering moment; not long enough to draw undue attention to them, but quite long enough to make sure he brought this discussion to a definite close. "I know," he said eventually, pitched his voice intentionally low and nuzzled against Amedeo's throat for a second. "I know and I'm grateful. Better?"

Amedeo hummed and kissed him again. "Much better. I might have to think of a way to reward you tonight."

Guillaume smiled and was about to suggest to see if they couldn't excuse themselves from the party for a while, when Tatiana appeared out of nowhere and clapped them both on the shoulder. She had Andrea in tow, who looked decidedly miserable. "Should we ask Máxima if she can't find a room for you two love birds?"

Startled, Guillaume stared at her for a moment, but recovered his composure quickly. Showing a predator you were afraid was never a good idea and judging by Tatiana's feral grin, she was as much of a valkyrie as Theodora. "We thought we'd wait for the show of you leading your lamb there to the slaughter," Amedeo said smoothly and winked.

She let go of them laughing and wound both arms around Andrea and pressed close to him instead after kissing him on the cheek. "Theodora will only flail him limb for limb, I've spent too much time training him to hand him over to a Greek princess now. Besides, she's currently busy interrogating her brother." Tatiana nodded into one corner of the room where a certain Greco-Danish princess was laying heavily into Philippos. Poor boy. "Being drawn and quartered might be more comfortable."

Andrea looked pleadingly at Guillaume, who just shrugged, not unsympathetic, but he knew better than to even try to rescue him from whatever his girlfriend had planned for the man for later. Yet... "In that case, would you like some wine, my lady? Amedeo and I were just thinking it might be opportune to enjoy some of the food and drink on offer." Under different circumstances he would have bowed, but he knew too well how Tatiana felt about courtesies like that.

Her slight scowl turned into a genuine smile as she took the arm he offered her. "Why, thank you, that'd be lovely."

He heard Andrea breathe a sigh of relief at their departure and say something quietly to Amedeo that he missed. Tatiana meanwhile patted his hand and remarked, quite offhandedly, "I knew you weren't a lost cause."

Guillaume blinked. Not quite what he had expected her to say but... "Thank you. I guess."

She smiled and reached for two glasses of wine as they reached the table, passing one to him. "You're quite welcome."

He gave a mock salute with his free hand, which was only slightly spoiled by the fact that he was wearing a suit rather than his dress uniform, which earned him a laugh and a clink against his glass. Tatiana had known him for too long, he figured. While they had not attended the same school for an extended amount of time, nor had been in the same year, she seemed to have his measure. In a way it was good being around someone who had known him before he had officially been his father's heir, even if it made it hard to hide things from her.

"Andrea says thanks for saving him temporarily," Amedeo remarked late that night, when they were driven back back to their hotel - a convenience rather than necessity in their area.

Guillaume made a sound that he hoped conveyed his acknowledgement. "There's a lot of that going around today. Saving Andrea, that is," he qualified as an afterthought while looking outside at the illuminated city.

"What goes around..." Amedeo trailed off and took his hand between of of his, resting them on his knee, a warm and sure weight. "Remember when he managed to make the paparazzi paddle out to Frederik and Mary's chartered yacht so the rest of us could have a peaceful weekend off the coast last August?"

That had been a memorable weekend in the Mediterranean indeed; Victoria and her husband along with Mette-Marit and Haakon as well as William and Carl Philip in tow had more or less come to kidnap them on a weekend when Guillaume had meant to work on Council proposals. Until this day he suspected Amedeo was in league with them, but couldn't really prove it. The Danes had shown up in the same waters - surprisingly, Victoria said, as they hadn't seemed interested at all initially. Andrea, who of course was in on the scheme as well, hadn't cared much but simply used _the Grimaldi way_ (and Guillaume had decided he still didn't want to know what that encompassed) to redirect the telephoto lenses.

It was an impressive display of what might come to pass when you managed to blow it with this particular cohort. Guillaume had said as much to Amedeo later, who had thrown him an amused look that said 'I told you so' better than words but also admitted that with the friendships, family ties and the simple _effort_ he was making in other fields, it was unlikely that would have happened. It was the thought of having escaped the chance of that by sheer coincidence though, that had Guillaume stop protesting whenever Amedeo insisted they attend an event.

He had also cut back more on his workload, as Amedeo was still thinking he was stretching himself too thin and he was sick of getting chastised by William, of all people. "It is strange, isn't it?" Guillaume answered after a long moment that had them almost in front of their hotel.

"What is?" Amedeo answered distractedly, and when Guillaume looked over he was frowning at his mobile and held it out to him. "Do you think we should warn Alex about her brother-in-law spreading pictures of her husband getting a lap dance from a very hairy footballer?"

The display held a picture of Harry looking very distraught at being straddled (and consequently pinned to his chair) by a quite well known young man with an indeed very hairy, very heavily muscled back. "I'm rather sure she was the one to tell William to snap any embarrassing pictures of Harry he can possible get," Guillaume suggested with a frown of his own. Duchess Alex of Sussex wasn't exactly what one could call shy or meek. Then again, she had tamed Harry, so that couldn't be expected of her.

"Maybe," Amedeo conceded and put the phone away. "What's strange?"

How far they'd come since that first kiss in the dark, after a cousin's wedding, but their car came to a halt at that moment, Amedeo let go of his hand to reach for the door and Guillaume just shook his head. "Nothing." Making use of the moment and leaned in quickly to steal a kiss. "I'm glad we made this work."

Amedeo shot him a brief, quizzical look and stopped his movement to reach out instead and cup his face, fingers splayed against the back of his neck to pull him in. "I love you, too," he answered, punctuated it with a slightly more lingering kiss. When Guillaume's door was opened from the outside, he leaned in further and whispered, "How about we take this upstairs and discuss... _strange_ things."

Guillaume snorted quietly and gave his husband a gentle shove, to not let their long-suffering driver wait any longer. Amedeo laughed, blew him a kiss over the back seat and turned to open his own door, while Guillaume simply shook his head and got out of the car, straightening his suit jacket as he did so. Sheer luck and the sympathy of others had brought them here just as much as their own hard work and, as Amedeo came around the car to take his hand, he found he was was equally grateful for all of them.

  
-Fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Twice in a Blue Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/135479) by [carmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta)
  * [Intermezzo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/143951) by [carmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta)




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